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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26151859">You, My Dear, Look Simply Marble-ous</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asorenii/pseuds/Asorenii'>Asorenii</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV), The Witcher (TV) RPF, Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, But in two wildly different ways, Canon-Typical Violence, Dark Academia, Detailed Gore, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Relationships, Family Reunions, Fighting, Fix-It of Sorts, Geralt isn't emotionally stunted in this, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Whump, Getting Together, Good Parent Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Gore, Happy Ending, He's just a grouchy old man sometimes, Historian Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier is a drama queen, Jaskier | Dandelion Has Feelings, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion is Called Julian, Jaskier | Dandelion is a Mess, Light Angst, M/M, Magic, Magic Made Them Do It, Magic-Users, Magical Accidents, Magical Artifacts, Minor Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Netflix Geralt Looks with Book Geralt Personality, Not Beta Read, Not Canon Compliant, Not Really Character Death, Original Witcher Monster(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Oxenfurt Academy (The Witcher), Past Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Professor Jaskier | Dandelion, Protective Jaskier | Dandelion, Roach Ships It (The Witcher), Sad with a Happy Ending, Slow Burn, Statue Geralt z Rivii, Sword Fighting, Temporary Character Death, The writing gets worse before it gets better, They figure it out rather quickly, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Touch-Starved Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, as always, but not really, depictions of violence, i'm going to stress this a lot, optional smut chapter to be included, plot is very messy, rating will change when it's updated, slightly OOC, so's Geralt, tags update with each chapter, trust the process</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 12:08:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>23,539</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26151859</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asorenii/pseuds/Asorenii</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"Perhaps it was his bone-deep yearning, the product of over-romanticising the fairytales he'd inhaled in the search of answers or his own pathetic wish for the magic he'd read about in the old tales to be real. Gently, Jaskier pressed his lips to the cold ones made of carefully carved stone, his eyes sliding shut as he imagined something to become of it.</p><p>He hadn't expected to feel the statue jolt."</p><p>--</p><p>Medieval Antiquities Professor, Julian Pankratz- Jaskier as he insisted to go by- has spent the last few years of his career obsessing over a single statue- one with no story, no signature, and no records. All options and historical documents expended, he can't help but hope that perhaps for once, fairytale solutions are the answer.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia &amp; Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>73</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>334</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The musk of the antiquities hold always knocked the air out of Jaskier's lungs as he flipped the light switch on right next to the heavy wooden door, the buzz of the old, cheap fluorescent lights the only ambient noise other than his own footsteps as he entered the storage unit underneath the university. It was rumoured to have been a makeshift mortuary back in the fifteenth century after Europe had been hit by the plague- it hadn't overflowed as other parts of the continent had, but records show that at least four hundred students at Oxenfurt had been placed here before it was transformed into a relics' keep once it had been remodelled back in the 1900s. <br/><br/>The room was sectioned, with peeling and dust-covered tape on the floor squaring off sections of dated goods. The further into the room you went, the older the relics. And Jaskier had nearly memorised perfectly the path to the most curious of them all. <br/><br/>Squeezing in between two large wagon wheels, held together by twine that took up far too much space, he approached the square with only one object in it. He kept the linen sheet over it, to prevent damage from lights or erosion from the dry AC unit just a few feet above. <br/><br/>Carefully removing the linen sheet, Jaskier stepped back to escape the soft dust cloud that puffed up as the white cloth hit the concrete floor.<br/><br/>The Trzęsacz Hercules, as Jaskier liked to call him. It was a bit of an offence to use a name from Greek mythology to describe something so far detached from it, but there really wasn't any other way to accurately describe the statue. <br/><br/>It was of black marble, and with details so intricate and precise, Jaskier was conflicted on if it was truly a statue or something out of myths and legends itself. <br/><br/>The man had an angled face, with individual stubble hairs that barely raised off the stone, the plumpness of his lips defined in a snarl, with teeth that peaked through with a slight fang-like quality. Eyebrows that furrowed and wrinkled his face almost perfectly, and with single strands of hair wisping in front of his face. <br/><br/>His body was covered in what seemed to be heavy and studded armour- likely leather, given the fact the joints had the wear and creases of overused and under-oiled leather- crackling like a car seat. He was tall, though not much more than Jaskier himself, maybe only have an inch or two on the professor. But he was large- his shoulders dwarfed Jaskier's own, and from more than one close examination, his arms were nearly double the thickness of Jaskier's as well. <br/><br/>If statues from the Greco-Roman period, the Renaissance, and from the Age of Bronze were praised for looking like they were plucked right out of thin air- this would have them all beat. It looked as if the action was still taking place. <br/><br/>The swing of the statue's body, both arms raised in a defensive position- shielding the man's face from an invisible attack. The dig of his heel into the ground, and the bulge of his calf as he placed most of his weight onto his back foot. It was as if he had been frozen mid-fight, left to the rest of time to be trapped in the moment of weakness, or defeat. <br/><br/>Jaskier cupped the cheek of the man, the cool stone beneath his warm palm sending a pleasant jolt down his spine. <br/><br/>"A nameless, story-less, unsigned beauty.. You're really testing my abilities here, darling," He teased, chuckling as he pulled his hand away from the man's face. Endearingly, he had taken the liberty to at least nickname the statue properly while alone, 'drogi'. He hummed quietly as he left to gather the lastest library book he'd use to try and find anything about the origins of the statue. <br/><br/>--<br/><br/>A dead end. Again. <br/><br/>Jaskier shut the book with a groan, hands threading and tugging on his hair as he sat cross-legged in front of the statue. Sixteen books, twenty pamphlets, over one-hundred folk legends- nothing. Not even one hint as to who would have made such a statue. <br/><br/>It was truly baffling- no other statues had been found at the excavation site, no ruins of any other arts- just the remains of what could have been iron tools- and one sliver of corroded silver. Jaskier had never seen silver be used on marble, though he suspected it may have been a sharpener- or something along those lines. The objects of what they had been long forgotten, and with the dark earth around them absorbing and corroding them, even the experts on weapons and smithery couldn't identify them.<br/><br/>It left Jaskier with the one clue he'd started with- that damned medallion. <br/><br/>A crest of a snarling wolf's head, with no language or numbers- anything on it that could identify it. And no army or guardship was tied to the imagery. <br/><br/>The only thing Jaskier could find were whispers, barely mentioned legends of a thing called a 'Witcher'. Monster hunters that were neither human nor beast, alive only to slaughter the monsters of legends. </p><p>It was all he had to go off of, and it likely wasn't even true. He'd entertained the idea of playing along with the fantasy of Witchers- and he'd explored old Slavic fairytales, folklore and myths- all of which alluded to the existence of Witchers, but never what became of them. There was no record of them disappearing, like how most beasts did- either killed or never seen from again after other mythical beings intervened. <br/><br/>Of course, he'd come to the point of romanticising the whole ordeal- he'd spent the last three years obsessing over the statue- he almost found it pathetic how attached he'd become, and of the fantasy, he'd made for himself about who the man was. Jaskier imagined a deep voice, perhaps matching the snarl the statue captured, those feral eyes of colour he couldn't place. <br/><br/>He tilted his head to the side, pursing his lips as he gave the statue another one-over. No new details jumped out at him, as always, though it never hurt to keep looking. <br/><br/>A step closer and his hand was back on the statue's cheek, his thumb rubbing over the rise of the defined cheekbone, fingers curled under the angle of his jaw. <br/><br/>"You are an absolute pain to try and figure out," He murmured, adjusting so that his head was eye-level with the statue's own. <br/><br/>With a dull ache in his chest, Jaskier stared at the statue's face- locking eyes and for a moment swearing that briefly, he could feel a spark, a sort of connection. It was like looking into a mirror and only faintly seeing something that wasn't quite right look back, something that lingered but couldn't be placed. His skin prickled into gooseflesh as he adjusted the placement of his hand to fall to the statue's chest, running his fingers over the rivets of the man's breastplate.<br/><br/>He trailed along the curve into the middle, and then back up- his hand hovering over the medallion. He pressed his palm against the cold stone, almost frustratingly firm as he curled his fingers into the edge of the armour around the medallion, as he breathed out, eyes going back up to lock with the statue's own. <br/><br/>Perhaps it was his bone-deep yearning, the product of over-romanticising the fairytales he'd inhaled in the search of answers or his own pathetic wish for the magic he'd read about in the old tales to be real. Gently, Jaskier pressed his lips to the cold ones made of carefully carved stone, his eyes sliding shut as he imagined something to become of it.<br/><br/>He hadn't expected to feel the statue jolt. <br/><br/></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">Jaskier’s eyes shot open and he stumbled back as the hulk of a man in front of him broke what now looked like the thin covering of stone around him, the black dust of what had been a statue falling around them both.<br/><br/>Almost immediately, his eyes again locked with what were now feral amber ones, pupils blown wide before slitting, heavy brows on the man’s face furrowing as he almost made an identical snarl that the statue had held.<br/><br/>Though he didn’t lunge, he didn’t even move to try and attack Jaskier- rather, his hands fell to a now obvious wound to his side, something that looked like it had been made by a blade, trapped inside of stone for however long he’d been a statue.<br/><br/>The man buckled, falling into Jaskier’s chest as the two of them stumbled, the professor trying to find his footing to prevent them both from toppling into another square of relics.<br/><br/>“Oh goodness- sit, sit, sit-“ He babbled, feeling a bit faint as he set the hulk of a man down to the ground. “Your wound- is it- do you- first aid. You need-“ Jaskier’s hands grappled with the buckles on the man’s armour, years of observation serving him well as he rid the man of the heavy leather, ghosting concerned fingers over the slash at his side.<br/><br/>Not a wound by a blade, it was too jagged. Almost like a swipe of nails, or claws. The man was breathing stiffly, his face pinched and lips pursed and pulled thin. His hair, a dirty snow-white, fell and obscured his eyes as he fought Jaskier’s hand away, pressing his own gloved palm to his side.<br/><br/>“My bag-“<br/><br/>“There isn't one. You’re-“<br/><br/>The pause was deafening as the man looked up to Jaskier, his eyes still holding that wild glare, though his entire body sagged as he glanced around the room. Like the wind had been knocked out of him, he looked back up to Jaskier, worried lines etched into his forehead.<br/><br/>“Where are we?”<br/><br/>“Oxenfurt University- well, beneath it. We’re in the relics storage. You-" Jaskier took a deep breath. “You were a relic up until two minutes ago. A statue.”<br/><br/>The man took in a sharp breath, his fingers digging into his side as he pressed his hand more aggressively against his side, a low and gravelled ‘<em>fuck</em>’. Jaskier cocked an eyebrow, kneeling before taking a seat on the ground, his legs propped up as he rested his arms on his knees.<br/><br/>“Are you okay? I’m not sure how safe it is to, y’know- be touching a wound so fresh with dirty gloves.”<br/><br/>“I’ll be fine. I need to figure out what happened between where I got this, and where we are now.” A pause. “And who you are.”<br/><br/>Jaskier gaped, his cheeks burning in embarrassment. “I didn’t even introduce myself did I? I’m Jaskier- I study music and antiquities here at Oxenfurt, though I did take a few liberal arts courses while I was studying here.” He offered a hand out to the white-haired man, his skin burning pleasantly where it touched the man’s glove.<br/><br/>“<em>Dandelion</em>? Did you pick it yourself?” The man mused, his brows quirking up as he shook Jaskier’s hand. “Geralt of Rivia.”<br/><br/>“Oh, so we’re doing formalities, are we? Well if you’re from Rivia- which was lovely, by the way, we have thousands of artefacts and pieces of jewellery- the artistry was truly remarkable- then let me tack on ‘of Lettenhoven’. <em>Apparently</em>, my lineage and name- Pankratz- tracks all the way back to nobility! Not that it’s good, the family history isn’t very pretty until you get to the nineteenth century.”<br/><br/>Geralt let Jaskier talk, his face now relaxed and no longer pinched in pain. He looked rather interested, either in what the professor was saying, or what he looked like given the soft flicker of his amber eyes from Jaskier’s face to his lips, to his hands, arms, and legs. A very subtle once-over.<br/><br/>“I used to work around Lettenhoven. I can say that you’re absolutely right about the nobility.”<br/><br/>Jaskier paused, arching a brow as he leant forward, observing Geralt’s face.<br/><br/>“You look not a day over forty and yet you claim to have visited a thirteenth-century city?”<br/><br/>Geralt snorted, rolling his eyes as he adjusted how he sat, his hand no longer pressing on the wound. Jaskier stole a glance only to no longer see a sluggishly bleeding cut, but a fresh, bright-pink scar.<br/><br/>“I’m actually closer to a hundred, but your flattery is kind.”<br/><br/>“It’s not exactly flattery, but if you take it that way, then be my guest. I’ve been searching for years for a clue as to who you were- what that damn medallion meant; and you’re telling me that somehow you were petrified into marble back in the medieval ages? What sort of sorcery is that, pray tell, Geralt of Rivia?”<br/><br/>“Not sorcery, though I wouldn’t put it past a mage to try and mimic a Basilisk’s powers.”<br/><br/>“A basilisk? As in the big scary snake monster that’s rumoured to live under temple ruins, deep in the earth, that feeds off of lost humans and turns people to stone if they look at it? That monster?”<br/><br/>“There’s a bit more than it simply being a ‘monster’, but yes, if that’s all you know then it’s better than most.”<br/><br/>Jaskier gaped like a fish out of water, bright blue eyes wide and curious. “You act as if they’re real-“<br/><br/>“Would I have been a statue on my own volition?”<br/><br/>A frown and Jaskier narrowed his eyes, looking still fairly sceptical but he resigned to sitting back with a curt nod. That made enough sense to him- really, who would want to be a statue?<br/><br/>There was a pregnant pause, Jaskier observing Geralt and vice versa. Awkwardly, Jaskier broke the silence with a cough, rubbing the back of his neck as he shrugged his shoulders. <br/><br/>“So- do you need anything?”<br/><br/>“I’d appreciate some fucking food.”<br/><br/>Jaskier offered a hand out again, bracing as he stood up and leveraged Geralt up and onto his feet and- <em>oh dear</em>. Jaskier found himself just barely shorter than the man, though now the accurate height difference between them left him eye-level with the other's lips. Shaking himself off, brushing down his button-up, he shot Geralt a crooked smile. <br/><br/>"Well, that can be arranged. I should warn you- I do believe that food now is a quite a bit different than what you're used to." <br/><br/>"As long as it's not rotten, I'll take what I can get." <br/><br/>Jaskier chuckled, patting Geralt's shoulder. "You and me both, Geralt. I hope you don't mind a slight interrogation over your predicament over lunch." <br/><br/></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>As always, lots of this is based around the more friendly/cheeky personality Book! Geralt has- I don't think I could survive writing a slowburn with the emotional constipation of Netflix Geralt. </p>
<p>Kudos and comments let me know you're enjoying what I'm writing!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>After being rudely (sweetly) brought back into the land of the living, Geralt has some truths to grapple with.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i just realised this is reading like a bastardized homoromantic night at the museum au and i don't know how to feel. don't hmu i'm in pain</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Trying to convince Geralt to shed his armour was a feat Jaskier thought would have been impossible given the fact it seemed like the only layers on the man's body were made of leather and steel. <br/><br/>"Why can't I just take off the largest of it and leave the rest on?" <br/><br/>"Because it's loud, bulky, and definitely makes you stand out in more ways than one! At least in just your shirt, which I'm really hoping you have, if we run into anyone they'll just think you're <em>eccentric</em> and not eight-hundred years old!" <br/><br/>Geralt grumbled though he allowed Jaskier's hands to unbuckle and disrobe him of the heavy leather armour. Immediately after removing the topmost layer, Jaskier's nose was assaulted by a musk heavier than the mildew scent he was usually greeted with. <br/><br/>"Oh dear-" He tilted away, brows high on his forehead as he glanced back to Geralt. "Have you never bathed?"<br/><br/>"Soap isn't a necessity on the Path, and rivers with rags worked just fine on the occasion." <br/><br/>"<em>On the occasion! </em>You're telling me you've never even had a decent bath?" <br/><br/>Geralt shrugged, unbuckling the guards on his forearms as Jaskier seemed too caught up in his tirade about hygiene. <br/><br/>To be frank, Geralt didn't mind the man's loudness and never-ceasing dramatics. It was almost pleasant, after being stuck in a void for what felt like simultaneously a moment and a lifetime. The only unwelcomed addition was that of eight hundred extra years Geralt hadn't known had passed. He paused as he slid the last of the binds on his arms off, rubbing the indented skin below. <br/><br/>Eight hundred years. <br/><br/>A chill washed over him as he connected the dots. Witchers never lived past three hundred- even Vesemir was cutting it close. Humans rarely lived past eighty, though Geralt didn't usually have any humans that stuck around too long to become used to. <br/><br/>He only had Yennefer and Cirilla. <br/><br/>Yennefer, the stubborn, power-hungry sorceress who seemed to taunt death at every turn in her search for strength and magic unknown. And Ciri-<br/><br/>Geralt sagged and gave a sharp intake of breath before he grit his teeth and let his head drop. <br/><br/>"Geralt?"<br/><br/>Jaskier gently laid a hand on the man's shoulder, chattering dying abruptly as he noticed the change in posture. <br/><br/>"Are you alright?" <br/><br/>Was Geralt alright? Physically speaking, yes, though his side was itching as the skin knit itself together and his head was throbbing from a headache induced by Melitele knows what. His legs felt heavy and his back ached, and all his muscles felt white-hot but that was <em>normal</em>.<br/><br/>No, the thing that hurt was his chest, the cave inside it that supposedly kept a heart that could never feel. Dogshit and he knew it, but the ache of loss had never felt so strong. <br/><br/>He gave a hum, furrowing his brows as he shook Jaskier's hand off of him. "Later," Geralt said. "I need to think it over." <br/><br/>The professor swallowed thickly and awkwardly just set a pat onto the Witcher's shoulder, nodding stiffly as he sighed and offered a sad smile. <br/><br/>"Lunch is upstairs. I suppose you'd probably want something at least a little similar to what you're used to. Baked potato?" <br/><br/>Geralt felt the ache lessen, watching as Jaskier respected his ask, didn't press the issue and even took his wellbeing into account. The small things in life. <br/><br/>"Please- thank you." <br/><br/>Jaskier could only lessen the look of concern on his face as the smile grew a bit more bright. <br/><br/>--<br/><br/>Getting Geralt upstairs was easy, of course, because they were stairs. Geralt seemed rather adept at climbing those, Jaskier mused as he watched the man finish the small flight behind him. <br/><br/>Now getting to Jaskier's office was a different story. Of course, he could take Geralt to the cafeteria which was across the hall- but it was still full of students. Students that had been victim to Jaskier's musings on the statue and many of whom had offered to scan the internet for Jaskier rather than solely relying on old books. <br/><br/>Jaskier wasn't about to risk Geralt being recognised, or for the horrible possibility of a student remarking on the similarities between Geralt and the statue Jaskier had openly admitted to being <em>'made with the same passion as</em> <em>Michelangelo's David.'</em><br/><br/>So, he'd settled to offer Geralt what he'd packed as his own meal and what was in his little office fridge- a salad from the grocery store, a leftover baked potato from last night's dinner, and possibly some tea, if Geralt was alright with chamomile and mugwort. <br/><br/>"My office is just a few hallways down but if anyone sees you, please act like you can't see them or at least ignore them- I don't have a ready explanation as to why you've suddenly popped up." <br/><br/>Geralt's brows pinched and he offered a tight smile. <br/><br/>"I've found I'm rather good at ignoring things." <br/><br/>A small pit formed in Jaskier's stomach, with something about the statement seeming rather sad. He, however, nodded and offered his hand for Geralt to take. The other hesitated, quirking an eyebrow as he looked at Jaskier's hand, then back to his face. <br/><br/>"It's so I don't lose you, you clod." <br/><br/>Seemingly sated, Geralt grabbed Jaskier's hand as he allowed himself to be pulled through the hallways. It was almost serene, with most of the building left as he remembered it being described. Open hallways with high-rising windows, stained glass allowing whatever sun that hit t to filter through in soft colours that danced along the floors. <br/><br/>It smelt like the courtyard, with the doors open and held by heavy stoppers at the bottom. Jaskier pulled Geralt past a small section of the hallway that broke into a lecture hall, and Geralt could very clearly hear the murmurs of students as well as the loud voice of a female professor speaking on the history of Latin. <br/><br/>Everything that was slightly off- the metal basin with an automatic dispenser for water, the signs above certain doors that glowed bright, and the soft buzz that erupted from inside Jaskier's back pocket were all new. <br/><br/>Everything was much louder than what he was used to, but when they reached a door with the title of  'Julian A. Pankratz, Ph.D' that they were allowed to enter, the cushion of at least a heavy door and solid walls between them and the outside world muffled the noises to being tolerable.<br/><br/>"Take a seat," Jaskier said, gesturing to one of the three cushioned chairs in front of his desk. "Is it okay if the potato is cold? The microwave is broken." <br/><br/>"That's fine, I can heat it up." <br/><br/>Jaskier offered a sceptical hum, opening the small blue fridge under his desk to set the Tupperware that contained the food out and on top of the desk. He also set down his water bottle, along with plastic cutlery.  <br/><br/>"Right on then, uh- here you go," He said, pushing the container to Geralt. "The salad may be a tad limp, but I know the potato will be fine, I just made them last night." <br/><br/>Geralt inspected the clear container he'd been handed and popped the lid off. Taking the metal-wrapped lump out, which he assumed was the potato, he looked back up to Jaskier for a moment before glancing back down to the food. <br/><br/>The office was small, but he was confident nothing important would catch on fire. He focused on the small lump and signed for <em>Ingi</em> with his hand. Almost immediately afterwards, Jaskier let out a small yelp and the potato split the foil it was in open, though it didn't spill. <br/><br/>The two men sat in silence for a moment before Jaskier offered a string of gibberish, blubbering before waving his hands around to gesture at Geralt. <br/><br/>"<em>You've got magic?</em>"<br/><br/>Geralt looked up, face plastered in confusion. <br/><br/>"Yes?" </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jaskier's eyes bugged for a moment and Geralt allowed himself to huff a small chuckle. <br/><br/>What was peculiar is that ever since he was 'awake', or rather, brought back, his medallion had been humming ever so slightly. Enough to alert him of something's presence, though on the professor, he smelt nothing but cologne, sweat, and a smidgen of sugar- likely from the slight stain on the front of his shirt.<br/><br/>"Magic, Geralt, wasn't considered real! I mean, even in my courses we were told that the most magical a person could be is one of otherworldly talent." <br/><br/>Geralt quirked a brow and set the steaming foil lump onto the desk, still looking at Jaskier with a quizzical expression. <br/><br/>"So you're trying to convince me that magic doesn't exist? Or isn't believed in?" <br/><br/>Jaskier sat in his own chair, a more humble office chair rather than the cushioned recliners for guests, the bottom offering a pathetic groan as he shifted the weight to bring one leg up to rest on the chair and offer his knee as a stool for both arms to fall onto. <br/><br/>"Well, <em>sort of</em>. Most people, common and academic, think any form of true 'magic' is hogwash. Some people think that sleight of hand was mistaken for summoning or that psychic powers were simply the art of vague guessing and narrowing questions down to apply to whoever was asking. But everyone collectively agreed that what you just did, that- that little fire trick there- yeah, that wasn't supposed to be possible." <br/><br/>Geralt hummed, crossing his arms as he mirrored the action was his legs, almost too large to properly sit in the chair. <br/><br/>"That's a shame. Because it does exist." <br/><br/>Jaskier's face melted into a stare, a rather <em>'oh really?'</em> expression as he shook it tiredly and rested it on his knee, eyes scanning the room again before he sighed.<br/><br/>"Well, I was going to ask you a few questions about yourself but uh, down in the storage," Jaskier's voice grew softer, and he looked at Geralt, only continuing to speak once he met the other's amber gaze. "You seemed lost in thought. Sad. What was that about?" <br/><br/>Geralt's face lost its mask of brightness, his eyes dropping to his lap, where his hands sat, wrung together as he mulled over the thought. <br/><br/>"People I knew, mostly. I was a Witcher- mutant made to fight monsters to keep humanity safe. We aren't supposed to- <em>I'm</em> not supposed to have the ability to grow attached to people." He scoffed, picking at his nails, continuing to avoid the gaze he felt burning a hole through him. "It's not true but I wish it was. I had a-" <em>Lover? Enemy? </em>"-acquaintance. A sorceress. Yennefer of Vengerberg. A stubborn woman, but one I respect." <br/><br/>He paused, blinking slowly as the words he had escaped him. What was he supposed to say? Explain his entire life story to the man in front of him? Explain that Yennefer and himself had been at one point bound by destiny itself? <br/><br/>"She was an important figure- though we were never truly romantically involved, not by true love at least, she's the mother figure of-" His throat seized up a small bit, and the next words came out with a crack he wished Jaskier couldn't hear. "My daughter." <br/><br/>Softly, he heard Jaskier sigh, and his eyes flicked up, meeting wet cornflower ones. <br/><br/>"Not by blood- but I took her in after her parents and grandparents died during the war. An excitable little thing, she was. Very attached. I believe she's the one who pushed me to become more human, and better connected to people." <br/><br/>Geralt shook his head, sighing deeply. "But they're both mortals. Even sorceresses are, despite alleged immortality- Yennefer especially. She was a power-hungry woman, looking for magic she couldn't control. And Cirilla was just human. Granted, not completely, but she had no magic to extend her life. She was only just a girl- hardly a teenager, when I left for the Basilisk hunt. I'd promised to bring her a fang back to fashion into a dagger for her." <br/><br/>He let his hand fall to his side. "A shame that the fucker didn't stay when it tried biting me."  <br/><br/>Geralt stopped talking, almost holding his breath as he felt the energy in the room shift from curiosity to sadness. He heard a small 'splat' to find Jaskier trying to stop a few loose tears from dripping off his chin and onto the desk. <br/><br/>"Geralt.." He said softly, extending a hand. Geralt placed his own on the desk, allowing for Jaskier to put his overtop it and squeeze it gently. "I'm sorry." <br/><br/>Geralt felt a tickle on his neck and brought a hand up to check. It was wet. He touched his cheek. Tears. <br/><br/>He sat for a moment, finally feeling the tears slowly drip down his cheeks, collecting and dispersing through his stubble and escaping down the column of his neck. Witchers didn't cry. They <em>shouldn't</em>. <br/><br/>"Don't be. It was my own idiocy that got me into this mess- I thought I could be quick. I was too cocky. If I'd been bleeding out, I likely would've contacted Yennefer, but being stone- that's much trickier to do." <br/><br/>"Contact? By magic, I assume?" <br/><br/>Geralt shrugged, nodding his head. "Of a sort-" <br/><br/>He paused, patting himself down before removing a small trinket from a necklace against his chest other than his medallion. Attached to it looked about the size of a pocket watch. Almost like a miniature powder-box. <br/><br/>"With this. Yennefer helped me with certain troubles that I couldn't handle. Far too often, before I acquired Ciri, wounds wouldn't heal on their own fast enough. She got tired of being pulled by destiny to save my sorry ass and instead gave me this- a xenovox- to contact her. All I had to do was-" <br/><br/>He demonstrated, opening by unclasping the latch, and pressing into the middle. The xenovox shuddered before producing a soft buzzing hum. After a pause, Geralt whispered into it, and then shut the lid. <br/><br/>"Usually it was much louder. I was scolded for sending messages that sounded more like screaming than speaking." <br/><br/>He set the xenovox down onto the desk, allowing Jaskier to look at it. <br/><br/>"But Yennefer would always come. The madwoman- she would portal to me, tired from magic only to find me either laying in a pool of my own blood or overdosed on potions and foaming at the mouth." <br/><br/>Jaskier's curious face broken into a grimace. <br/><br/>"But in the end, I'd end up alright."<br/><br/>Geralt stopped once more, taking in the situation once more. The likely end to the only family he knew was simply time. What was more morbidly ironic was that he hadn't even needed to go on that damned hunt. It was spur of the moment, after passing through a village that he'd heard rumours was placed above a basilisk's cave. He'd asked Ciri if she wanted to come along, and at the age of fourteen, she'd declined and offered to stay back to be able to patch Geralt up once he returned. <br/><br/>--<br/><br/><em>"Patch me up? What, do you expect that I'll let the thing hit me?"<br/><br/></em><em>Ciri laughed, her eyes crinkling around the edge as she shook her head. "You never do. But I have a feeling you want me staying back and safe anyways." <br/><br/></em><em>"Clever girl. Go start a fire, I'll bring back a hare or two on my way back. Maybe I'll even bring back a little trophy. How do you feel about a new dagger?" <br/><br/></em><em>Ciri gasped, wide eyes catching on Geralt's. "You won't!" <br/><br/></em><em>Geralt chuckled and fluffed up the hair on the crown of her head, earning a deserved swat to the cheek. "Their fangs make for deadly weapons. It'll do you well to have an extra form of protection for when I'm not around." <br/><br/></em><em>Ciri grinned and lunged at the man, knocking him slightly off balance as she threw herself into a hug. "You never leave long enough to put me in danger."<br/><br/></em><em>Geralt wrapped his arms around her, bringing her head into his chest. "I try my best not to." <br/><br/></em>--<br/><br/>"-alt? Geralt?" <br/><br/>Geralt looked up, Jaskier now leaning over the desk, a hand on his cheek as he blinked. <br/><br/>"Are you back with me? You completely zoned out." <br/><br/>He hummed, leaning out of the all-too-hot palm against his cheek. <br/><br/>Jaskier nodded and leaned back, removing himself from the other's personal space as he sat back in his chair. "Your food might get cold if you keep ignoring it. Potatoes don't do well being baked four times." He used the abandoned Tupperware to push the lump a bit in front of Geralt. <br/><br/>He took the foil off, discarding it in his lap as he took the offered fork and lid of the Tupperware as a makeshift plate. Jaskier, pleased that Geralt was at least eating, stood up and began to shuffle through the papers on his desk, filing them away into the drawers on either side. <br/><br/>Geralt had only begun to eat before the medallion against his chest grew a bit stronger in its vibrations. He looked around, noticing Jaskier simply doing some menial task before the medallion thumped against his chest violently just as a bright portal tore through the wall of Jaskier's office. <br/><br/>The professor yelped and the open drawers were emptied as papers flew out in a storm, the force of the portal sending anything on his desk careening off and onto the floor. <br/><br/>Out of the portal stumbled a slightly worn and sharp-eyed woman. She was clutching a necklace identical to Geralt's and met the gaze of a very frightened human, and that of the Witcher. <br/><br/><em>"Geralt?"</em><br/><br/>"Yen-" <br/><br/>All at once he was being pulled forward by the sorceress' hand and into a bruising kiss. He stayed frozen as Yennefer moved back, her eyes and face showing an absolute lividity. She looked older- though not by much. Her eyes had soft lines around them, and her hair seemed not as dark as Geralt remembered it. <br/><br/>"Care to explain how I received an alert from a xenovox nearly a <em>millennium</em> after you supposedly died?" <br/><br/>Geralt choked on his tongue, looking quite cornered. He glanced back to Jaskier, who was equally terrified and excited by the encounter. He held up his hands and cleared his throat. <br/><br/>"Very scary sexy witch lady who Geralt told me about no more than thirty minutes ago, it's a very, very long story as to why your- ah, husband figure? Is now alive and well but I can assure you that he's the one who used the little xeno-something to call you!" <br/><br/>Yennefer's gaze broke from Geralt to Jaskier, listening to him as the grip on the front of Geralt's shirt loosened. After Jaskier was done speaking, she looked back to Geralt and her face broke. She gasped brokenly and pulled the man into an embrace. Geralt found his hands wrapping around her back and cradling her head, gently bringing her close to a chair to coax her to sit. For the second time that day, he felt his cheeks grow wet as he let her cry. It was only another few seconds before she spoke again, voice surprisingly calm despite her appearance. <br/><br/>"<em>Eight hundred years, Geralt.</em> How are you not dead?" <br/><br/>Geralt shook his head, catching her eyes as he allowed her to remove herself from the hug. <br/><br/>"I don't know, but the same question applies to you. Last time I checked, you were flirting with death by djin." <br/><br/>"Well, clearly, I won."</p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Geralt snorted, shaking his head as he looked between Yennefer and the wall she'd appeared from. "That much is obvious now." <br/><br/>He quirked a brow and pinched his lips together, studying her figure for a moment longer. "What did you use the wishes for?" <br/><br/>A tentative topic, he knew, but Yennefer was unpredictable. For power, fame, fertility- anything, Geralt knew she would've taken advantage of the endlessness that even one wish could've brought, much less three of them. <br/><br/>The sorceress offered a chuckle, resting her hands on her hips as she made herself comfortable while matching the observational glare Geralt held. <br/><br/>"Control, of course. But not exactly for myself, so to speak. After I had to take Cirilla in, she was still unable to control her chaos. I used one of my wishes to wish for her training to not only be successful but to be perfect. I wished for her to become the master of her chaos. The second and third were not nearly as useful, I had no need for what I'd originally planned to ask for- morbidly, obtaining Cirilla showed me that I didn't need to birth a child to have one. So it was for my body to become a vessel for more power without decaying. That's the main reason I'm still around, really." <br/><br/>She grew sombre for a moment, sighing as she took and set a chair upright to sit in. "With you gone, the weight of a lot of protecting fell on my shoulders. Cirilla needed a parent and without you, I was the only one left." <br/><br/>Geralt tensed, though he kept his eyes on Yennefer, nodding for her to continue. <br/><br/>"She grew up fast. Tactile and clever. I brought her to Kaer Morhen every winter to continue her Witcher training, and for her to have contact with your brothers. They didn't take the news of your 'death' particularly well, either. For a while, Lambert accused me of having some hand in it.<br/><br/>But we were able to teach her how to use her powers, hone them to be used even in the most extreme of situations. Though, a few times, I had to track her back down as she'd gone too far." <br/><br/>Geralt hummed, closing his eyes as he listened. "She was powerful then?" <br/><br/>"Absolutely," Yennefer murmured, resting her chin on her knuckles, her elbow resting on the chair's arm. "I lost track of her after she decided to go onto the Path. She had no use for any more training, nor could she stay busy cooped up in the mountains. As a parting gift, I gave her a xenovox, similar to yours. Told her to call me whenever need be, or if she just needed someone." <br/><br/>Yennefer's face fell, digging a small locket-sized necklace from inside of her dress. "She never used it." <br/><br/>Geralt grunted, shaking his head. "She never called me unless it was dire, even when she got hurt. Half the time she'd've wandered off the Path and gotten tangled up and scraped, and pop back at my side covered in brambles before I even noticed she was gone. I don't think even if she knew she should call you, that she would have." <br/><br/>Jaskier was still sitting in his chair, observing the two converse. He couldn't butt in, he had almost no clue as to what they were discussing. But it was obvious that it was important. He knew who Cirilla was, though barely. He found himself staring at Geralt mostly, blocking out what the witch was saying unconsciously. <br/><br/>His hands fiddled with the buttons on his wrists, pulling at a loose thread.<br/><br/>"So how did she end up?" <br/><br/>Geralt's face was softer than it had been, fewer lines of worry creasing his skin. Yennefer was clearly hiding something, her voice a bit too light for his liking. Yennefer hadn't changed one bit, it seemed. Of course, getting knowledge from her would cost something, though at this point, he didn't know if she was hiding something he wanted to hear. <br/><br/>"Couldn't say. I've learnt to not try to interact or change the course of someone's destiny. All I can do is observe." <br/><br/>A pause, as Geralt hummed. <br/><br/>"She's alive then?" <br/><br/>Yennefer blinked, her jaw tensing. "Maybe. I lost track of her a while ago. Not a trace of her on the continent." <br/><br/>She crossed her legs, biting her lip as she looked around the office, frowning as she noticed that the ceiling tiles were covered with a shitty coat of paint. <br/><br/>"My theory is that she's jumped. Through time, that is. To when, I don't know- I can't track her through dimensions or space. All I can track is her location, and it's never the same." <br/><br/>She let her head fall back to look at Geralt, her leg bouncing on the ground as she switched how she was seated on the chair. <br/><br/>"I've got a feeling she's trying to find you. Or was trying. The last time I checked on her was about two hundred years ago, which was the last time I was able to actually see her somewhere. She'd been in Novigrad, though for what, again, I'm not sure." <br/><br/>Geralt sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. This was a lot. Of course, he knew realistically that if Yennefer had managed to stay alive, that she definitely would have had a hand in Ciri staying, too. But with Ciri's magic- if she was travelling through time to try and find Geralt, she could spent decades just a few months or years behind, or she'd have been across the world at the right time but without a clue as to how to find him. <br/><br/>Knowing that was frustrating enough, but was even more frustrating was that it was just out of reach. If Yennefer couldn't accurately track her, Geralt certainly couldn't. <br/><br/>Jaskier cleared his throat, glancing towards Geralt, and then back to Yennefer. <br/><br/>"Would Ciri have done something, er- notable? Written down in history? Because if I know anything about searching for impossible things, you can't look anywhere if you don't have a start. But with Ciri, you said you were able to track her up until some time ago, yes? So what if we started there- looked through documents, or books after you lost track of her." <br/><br/>He looked a bit sheepish as both of them turned to look at him, though Geralt's stare was much warmer than Yennefer's. <br/><br/>"If she's as important as you're making her sound, I'm almost certain that <em>somewhere</em>, something she did would have been recorded." <br/><br/>Yennefer hummed, nodding with a soft huff after Jaskier finished speaking. "At least he's not stupid. But I doubt she would have been, only because she was so inconsistent with where she stayed, or when she stayed somewhere." <br/><br/>Geralt snorted as Jaskier gave an indignant sputter. "You don't even know me!" <br/><br/>The Witcher looked back to Yennefer, stoic expression breaking only slightly. "If we can't use Jaskier's documents, could you try to track her again? Or at least track the xenovox?" <br/><br/>Yennefer grimaced. <br/><br/>"I'd need supplies for that. Tracking a person is one thing, I can trace their energy- especially with Ciri's as she's practically a walking beacon. But given the fact I haven't been able to even feel her presence, I think tracking her xenovox is the only way to know where she is. But I'd need to be able to have a way to keep contact with hers even if mine cuts. I don't believe that a one-sided call is strong enough to go through time." <br/><br/>She paused before glancing back to the professor. Jaskier paled slightly as she raised a brow. <br/><br/>"Jaskier." <br/><br/>"Yes, oh-so-scary-yet-concerningly-attractive witch lady?" <br/><br/>Yennefer leaned on the desk to become eye-level with the man, staring at him with a glint in her eye. <br/><br/>"I need to know- do you have access to <em>all</em> relics?" <br/><br/>Jaskier sighed, his brows furrowing. "I don't think I'm going to like your question if I answer truthfully, but yes. Access to the museum as well, though that's more tricky to do." <br/><br/>Yennefer smiled, and unlike Geralt's, it sent a very cold shiver down Jaskier's spine. <br/><br/>"Good. We need to create a beacon, something that will act as a magnet for the xenovox's energy. It will have to be able to keep this one's connection- so we have to transfer it into something much larger, and more sturdy. These were never meant to be cross-dimensional communication devices, but we'll have to make it one." <br/><br/>Jaskier blinked, looking dumbly up to Yennefer before glancing over her shoulder and back to Geralt. The Witcher offered him a confused look before shaking his head. <br/><br/>"As long as you know what to make," Jaskier said slowly, "I'll likely be able to find something to help. But you can't break anything- I can't exactly replace centuries-old relics by going out and finding another, they're rather hard to come by." <br/><br/>"No promises," Yennefer said offhandedly, waving her hand as she stood up straight once more. "If it breaks, we can fix it up with little difficulty. I'm rather good at mending things." <br/><br/>Her gaze travelled back to Geralt, who avoided direct eye contact. <br/><br/>"So? Where are they?" <br/><br/>Jaskier sighed and shut his eyes, rolling his shoulders before standing up. He muttered something before leaving from behind his desk, gesturing to the door. <br/><br/>"I trust you know what you're doing," He said, opening the door to allow for both Yennefer and Geralt to walk through. <br/><br/>Yennefer hummed, following behind Jaskier as he quietly shut his office door and checked the hallway before beginning to lead them back the way that he and Geralt had come in the first place. <br/><br/>"I know enough to get what I want." <br/><br/>Jaskier nodded, catching Geralt's gaze once more. The Witcher offered a soft, subtle smile. Jaskier's heart stuttered in his chest as he nodded, making sure to look back to Yennefer before speaking.  <br/><br/>"Well- You certainly know more than me when it comes to magic- this way, come on now." <br/><br/><br/></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The antiquities hold had been a private place for Jaskier. Nearly no other professor spent as much time underneath the university as he did- he liked to consider the space small beside where Geralt had been his 'underground office'. Piles of books that were still checked out of the library, documents in plastic holders in large binders, and close-up pictures of certain features that Geralt had had as a statue that had driven him to the brink of insanity with trying to decipher and figure out to no avail. <br/>
<br/>
"Be careful while walking," He said, shouldering open the wooden door with a small grunt. "It's rather crowded in here. And watch your step- the tape- Yennefer I assume you're up to date on what everything is but Geralt, the tape sticks up and can get caught on your shoes. So try to avoid the yellow." <br/>
<br/>
"I'm not a child, Jaskier," The Witcher grumbled, bristling as Yennefer chuckled and moved past him and Jaskier both, entering the unit first. <br/>
<br/>
She looked around, violet eyes wide as she read the small notes in front of each section, moving behind a few objects, her hands carefully hanging in front of her- ready to grab something. <br/>
<br/>
"Jaskier, I don't think we should rummage through this like barbarians- do you know where we could find <em>alchemy</em> <em>supplies</em>?"<br/>
<br/>
The professor stilled, his cheeks puffing as he pursed his lips. Alchemy wasn't exactly something that was easy to come by- glass vials and metal scales were often broken or too corroded by the time they were excavated to be saved. <br/>
<br/>
However, there were always exceptions. <br/>
<br/>
"I don't think it's exactly as old as you'd want it to be, but we have some supplies that have been locked away because they were contaminated with opium, lead, mercury, and other things we can't clean off unless we want to risk ruining the material below it. If you can handle them, which, obviously- you're magic, I don't doubt it- I'd be happy to go fetch them for you." <br/>
<br/>
He gestured towards a large door across the room with an ID scan in place next to the handle. He pat down his chest pocket before retrieving the staff key-card from out of it, the plastic card holding a rather dull-looking picture of him with a barcode beneath it. "There we go- access to nearly all rooms in the university save for other professor's laboratories if I'm not keyed into the system. Though, the only person here who doesn't like me enough to allow me into his lab is Marx." <br/>
<br/>
Jaskier frowned, placing the key card back into his pocket. "But he's the music theory teacher so all he has in his pathetic little lab is wood oils and broken reeds. Both of which I highly hope you don't plan on needing." <br/>
<br/>
Yennefer shook her head, waving a hand in front of Jaskier as she walked around one of the sectioned off areas, crouching to see what was beneath some of the linen sheets. "What's the majority of the objects down here?" <br/>
<br/>
Jaskier puffed his chest out a bit more, a smile returning to his face. "Well, aren't I glad you asked, dearest Yennefer. Down here, we have thousands of relics dating back from the tenth century up until eighteen-ninety-nine. We don't cover 'modern' artefacts, they go over to the folks in the Human Geography department and with the Archaeologists who set them up in the museum. Most of the things down here are extras- things that are either too delicate or too precious to put up an on display in the museum." <br/>
<br/>
He gingerly picked up a wooden crate, shooing the witch away as he turned around to set it down in the walking isle and away from the rest of the objects in the section. <br/>
<br/>
"This is the High Middle Ages section, but we've got six of those. This one, in particular, has lots of intricate metal art, jewellery, and ornate pieces for religious purposes." <br/>
<br/>
He took the lid off of the crate, bringing up a small, loosely wrapped piece of brown parchment. Unfolding it, he revealed a small brooch- golden, with green, red, and clear gems studded along the outside, with a large blue gem in the middle. <br/>
<br/>
"I like these quite a bit, I always found the style of jewellery to be rather beautiful." <br/>
<br/>
He set the brooch back into the box, wrapping it up properly before tucking it back into the small area it had come from. He glanced back up to Yennefer, nodding down to the rest of the box. <br/>
<br/>
"If you promise to be absolutely careful, I suppose you'll likely be able to find something to act as a conduit in here- God knows what we have that had a magic purpose in the past. The only 'magic' the museum even subscribes to are the theories regarding Christianity. Even then, they're treated as 'mythological fact', not exactly concrete to have happened." <br/>
<br/>
Yennefer snorted, shaking her head as she joined Jaskier in sifting through the crate's delicate contents. "As it seems all modern 'historians', and only a tad bit of offence to you, seem to forget that sometimes the marvellous and incredulous were just that, and not lies." <br/>
<br/>
"No offence taken, I've been shown in the last two hours that clearly, I was lacking a decent amount of education in the subject of 'magic' and the consequences of finding out it's real haven't been awful yet," He chided back, pausing for a moment to sit back on his knees, looking up to Geralt. The Witcher hadn't moved from the wall next to the door, staring at the both of them on the floor. <br/>
<br/>
"Care to join us, Geralt?" Yennefer called, beckoning the man over with a finger. "You can brood later." <br/>
<br/>
"It wasn't brooding," He grumbled, eyeing the sections suspiciously, arriving behind Jaskier. He glanced down at the two of them, jaw tense as he looked around the room. "Jaskier-" <br/>
<br/>
"Yes, Geralt?" The professor said quickly, turning around with a soft smile. "Do you need anything?" <br/>
<br/>
The Witcher hesitated before slowly crouching down, joining both Jaskier and Yennefer on the concrete floor. "It's usually easier to find things with more people looking." <br/>
<br/>
"With that, you'd be right, but," Yennefer paused, holding up a large, almost completely barren brooch. "I think we're finished here. This should work just fine. With how the communication works, it's only one way. But," She held the brooch in one hand, her xenovox in the other. "We need a way to keep communication steady. That means basically creating a stronger xenovox- we need a better metal, and gold ought to do the trick." <br/>
<br/>
She looked back to Jaskier, smiling sweetly. "How much is the brooch worth?" <br/>
<br/>
"Too much for you to destroy it, however, if you can reverse whatever you intend on doing to it- then it's yours to use." <br/>
<br/>
Yennefer rolled her eyes, moving to stand. "It won't be destroyed, just repurposed. And if you don't have any pure alchemy supplies, now, I can't exactly go turning wood into gold now can I?" <br/>
<br/>
Jaskier sputtered, looking up at her incredulously. "That was true, then? Alchemists could really do that with magic?" <br/>
<br/>
"Of course- just not the regular folk who swore that metal changing colour meant it changed properties. I could most definitely do it- I just need a stable environment. One of which you don't seem to exactly have." She raised her eyebrows as she looked back to Jaskier as if looking for him to prove her wrong. <br/>
<br/>
He couldn't, and rose to stand with a soft grunt. "Fine. Well then- how long will it take for you to reconfigure the xenocock?" <br/>
<br/>
"Xenovox." <br/>
<br/>
"Right yes, that's what I said. How long are you thinking? Because as wonderful as your company is, I never planned on having to schedule around Geralt being a real person, nor you appearing out of nowhere into my office. It's nearly time for me to go home, and I have no doubts that you two would end up being found by security if I left you here alone." <br/>
<br/>
Yennefer frowned, looking down at both objects, her lips pursing. "Not too long, but I have to be careful. Xenovox's are delicate things- the magic that makes them work is rather simple, but with all the cogs and gears and whatnot, it takes a steady hand." <br/>
<br/>
Jaskier nodded, crossing his arms as he racked his brain for a solution. One would be to offer to taxi them both to his apartment, which was already a bad idea. A Witcher who didn't know what a landline was and a very cocky, and very sexually tense sorceress that seemed to either hold a grudge against Geralt or wanted to fuck him. Or both. <br/>
<br/>
He brought a hand up to cover his chin, squeezing the bottom of his face softly as he looked down at the crate they'd been searching through. Distantly, he could hear Yennefer and Geralt talking- or maybe that was the ringing in his ears. The xenovox only needed a stronger metal- or stronger conductor for whatever magic it used, he wasn't going to question that part. They had the gold, they had the xenovox and Yennefer seemed awfully sure that she was capable of doing a good job at 'upgrading' the communication. <br/>
<br/>
The second option, he thought, was probably worse than the first. That would be to not go home tonight, and rather try to evade campus security for as long as they needed to either fix the damn thing or to do anything else with it- Including, maybe, contacting Cirilla. <br/>
<br/>
But that's what this was all about, right? It had to be timely, according to both of the people behind him, Cirilla was basically the 'goose' they were chasing. Near impossible to catch, perhaps doesn't even exist in this timeline, to begin with. <br/>
<br/>
But they had to try. One, because it would reunite Geralt with his daughter, who thought he'd died. And two, because it would reunite her with Yennefer, the madwoman who'd tried to keep eyes on her for the last few centuries like an overprotective mother would. It would wholly reunite their little makeshift family. <br/>
<br/>
Jaskier felt a tug in his chest, realising fully the depth of the matter. They had a shot- at putting a family back together. Briefly- almost morbidly ironic- he felt a pang of jealousy. Family wasn't something he exactly had going for him, not following in the footsteps of his parents to become something of himself, and rather running off to a liberal arts college to study 'dead people's old toys' for a living. <br/>
<br/>
But it wasn't fair to equate the two situations. And Jaskier didn't want to. He knew the outcome he had coming with his own family, which was disownment. But for Yennefer and Geralt? It could be a happy ending. <br/>
<br/>
It <em>had</em> to be a happy ending. <br/>
<br/>
Suddenly shoved out of his thoughts by a heavy hand to his shoulder, he whipped his head up to look at Geralt, who's palm quickly retracted. "You looked upset. Didn't respond when we asked if you were okay." <br/>
<br/>
"I am- not to worry, just pondering the possibilities for what's to come," Jaskier said. "Now- Yennefer, what would work as your 'stable' workspace?" <br/>
<br/>
"If you have something less cluttered than your office- something of that sort. No drafts, no unnecessary sunlight, no extra people." <br/>
<br/>
He paused. "So- do you mean like- a closet?" <br/>
<br/>
Yennefer's face scrunched up for a moment before shrugging. "I guess I do mean something 'like a closet'. Why, do you have something in mind?" <br/>
<br/>
"As a matter of fact, I do."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"A broom closet?" <br/><br/>Jaskier winced, looking sheepish as he lead Yennefer and Geralt to a small, secluded corner of a hallway towards the back of the university. "Not- not <em>exactly</em>, you see it's the janitor's closet. So more like a collection of cleaning supplies- however, it's not been used in years so it's rather uh," he used the brass handle to jiggle open the door. "Empty." <br/><br/>The room was just large enough for Geralt and Jaskier to stand shoulder to shoulder, though Geralt had to hunch over slightly to avoid the dangling light in the middle. <br/><br/>"It should do- I just can't risk picking other magic up while performing it. That's why a room of nothing, like this, is preferable." <br/><br/>Geralt looked as if he was going to say something, but he hummed and shook his head.<br/><br/>Jaskier glanced between the two and them and smiled tightly. "Right- well then, Geralt and I will leave you to it I suppose? Ten minutes, fifteen? How long do you suppose you need?" <br/><br/>Yennefer chuckled and <em>tsked</em>, moving to already start closing the door. "Less than one. I'm no fledgeling at performing magic." <br/><br/>The heavy wooden door shut and Jaskier heard the lock from the inside click. He rolled his eyes, looking up to Geralt after a moment. <br/><br/>"She's good at magic, right? I'm not making a mistake here?" His voice only wobbled slightly as he asked the Witcher. <br/><br/>The Witcher offered a thin smile, shaking his head. "Yennefer is one of, if not the, most powerful sorceress the Continent has ever known. Now, with the djinn wishes, she's likely the most powerful to ever grace the Earth." <br/><br/>Jaskier whistled, eyes widening as he nodded, his attention drawn back to the door after a bright violet light burst from the seams of the door for a moment before returning to being pitch black. The door jostled for a moment, and he heard the sorceress inside curse for a moment before the lock clicked again and the door swung open. <br/><br/>"Done! It's ready- now, I need-" She moved to pull Geralt closer to her, clasping a hand around his medallion. "Stay right here. You're the attachment to Ciri I need." She shooed Jaskier a few feet back, content after the professor was an arm's length at least away from both her and the Witcher. <br/><br/>"You'd interfere. Now be quiet and let's see if this works." <br/><br/>The air around them tensed almost palpably as Yennefer activated her xenovox. Instead of a soft blue glow that Geralt's had, hers produced a soft <em>boom</em> before glowing the same shade of violet that had leaked through the cracks in the door. Her hand on Geralt tightened it's grip as the violet glow passed from the xenovox to her palm, pooled where her hand touched Geralt's medallion, and then back. After a moment, she gasped and let go, the xenovox snapping shut. <br/><br/>"Yennefer?" Geralt asked, holding a hand out as the sorceress stumbled back. <br/><br/>"I found her. She's not in this time-" Yennefer started, glancing to Jaskier and then to Geralt. "She's nearly five hundred years in the past." <br/><br/>Geralt's body language tensed before it relaxed, his brows upturning as he looked to Yennefer's xenovox and then back to her face. "She's alive then?" He breathed. <br/><br/>"That remains to be seen, but from what I felt- likely. She knows how time passes. I don't doubt she's jumped multiple times at this point, looking for you. Eight hundred years for us to could be mere hours, months, or only just years for her." <br/><br/>Yennefer frowned after replying, looking down at her hand holding the xenovox, then she cast a quick glance to Jaskier. "I have to portal someone there- but neither of you can jump time like Cirilla. And you need to be able to contact me. That leaves me to stay here and for you," she gestured to Jaskier and Geralt. "To have to go back. Geralt is weaponless and Jaskier-" she paused, again hesitating as Geralt had in the closet. "You'll be of help." <br/><br/>"Well that's certainly not cryptic at all," Jaskier scoffed, shifting on the balls of his feet. "But if I have to go-" He took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders. "I will. After all," he gained a soft smile, looking over to Geralt. "It's usually easier to find things with more than one person looking, no?" <br/><br/>Geralt let his lips curl up, and Jaskier beamed, clapping his hands together. "Right then! My good lady witch, Yennefer-" <br/><br/>"Sorceress."<br/><br/>"Witch, sorceress, magic-handler, it's all the same," He said, waving his hands to dismiss the subject playfully. "Am I, uh- dressed for the occasion?" The question was genuine, Jaskier was less than 'medieval' looking in a wine-red button up, vest, and khaki slacks. Even his choice in shoes, stylish chocolate loafers seemed to clash with the mud-covered, limp-leather make of Geralt's boots and the rest of his armour. <br/><br/>"You're not, but that's easily fixed. We do, however, need to get Geralt his weapons back- or at least some similar." She smiled sweetly back to Jaskier, who could now no longer say 'no' to whatever she was going to ask as he himself was roped into the mess even further. "Jaskier." <br/><br/>"Let me take a wild guess- you want me to go foraging for a sword in the antiquities department, find one in usable or fixable condition, and simply let you <em>take </em>it?" He gave a defeated sigh and shook his head. "If we're able to come back, Yennefer, I'm afraid I might lose my job here if the Vice-Chancellor finds out that rare artefacts are going missing under my watch." <br/><br/>"Clever boy, and I can make sure that you can get the sword back- we just need it to work as a replacement for now." Yennefer countered, rolling her shoulders. "Now, fetch Geralt's armour, find a sword, and I can portal you two to the area where I felt Cirilla's presence. It won't put you directly on top of her, but she won't be out of reach. Geralt," she turned to the Witcher. "I trust you haven't forgotten how to track Cirilla's steps." <br/><br/>He huffed, shaking his head. "It's one of the many skills I had to learn rather than be forced to know. I can keep track of my own child, Yen." <br/><br/>The sorceress matched the jab with a soft sneer before straightening back up. "Back down to the hold then. Jaskier- truly, any sword will do. If you know the metal it's comprised of-" Her eyes flicked to Geralt. "Silver is better than anything else." <br/><br/>The professor nodded, beckoning both of them to now follow him as he spun on his heel to retrace their steps back to the storage room. The walk was still tense, and maybe it was the ever-persistent ringing in Jaskier's ears, but there was a soft, constant hum surrounding them. As they approached the door, Jaskier popped his ears as best he could, though it was no use in getting rid of the sound. Probably not his ears then. <br/><br/>The door swung open and Jaskier nearly stumbled down the single step dividing the end of the stairway and the floor of the storage room. He corrected it quickly, sidestepping to allow for the other two to be able to walk past him. <br/><br/>He tapped his fingers together, picking gently at the skin around the nails before sighing. "I'll go find you a sword then- I won't be too long." The man turned around for a moment before weaving through and behind a small wall of books, disappearing into the next aisle of boxes and whatnot. <br/><br/>After a brief moment of silence, Geralt turned to Yennefer. "Your magic's never registered on my medallion before," He said quietly, glancing down to the humming object under his shirt. "Would it be the addition from the djinn?" <br/><br/>Yennefer shrugged, though she pursed her lips as she looked to where Jaskier had disappeared into. "Perhaps." <br/><br/>Jaskier had stayed true to his word when grumbling and shuffling came from behind the book wall, Jaskier holding delicately in both hands a thin object wrapped in parchment and string. "This was the only thing labelled with silver I found find- I suppose it's the remains of a longsword or perhaps something similar. The note sketch in its box was just- a little doodle of a sword with handwriting I couldn't read. Dated to twelve-sixty-eight. So, just about as old as you two." <br/><br/>"And he's funny, too," Yennefer said with a small hum. Jaskier sighed before handing the wrapped sword over to her. Maybe Yennefer was just mean because she liked him. He glanced at the sorceress and felt his heart pick up a beat or two. Yeah, definitely stay on the scary sorceress' good side. <br/><br/>Yennefer unwrapped the sword like it was a Christmas present and Jaskier winced as the paper holding it was shredded and discarded onto the floor. He'd have to remind her to fix that later. <br/><br/>The sword- or rather- the remains of it, were textured like gravel, dilapidated and covered in a deep grey patina. He supposed it could have been a rather nice looking sword, given the handle had what looked to be the last dregs of leather or some other hide's wrapping. The pommel was shaped to a point- ought to have been good for bludgeoning something at some point. <br/><br/>"Oh, this will do nicely. Geralt, what were the measurements for your sword?" Yennefer asked, shifting the sword in her palms. <br/><br/>"Forty-seven, nine. Roughly fifteen or so pounds." He replied, holding out his arms to mime how long the blade was. <br/><br/>The sword in Yennefer's hands was only about half the size of what Geralt said, and she puffed her cheeks before curling her hands around the remains of the blade, shutting her eyes and frowning slightly as a bright white sheen took over the sword for a moment, disappearing as she lurched forward slightly, a nearly spotless longsword in her hands. "Shit-" <br/><br/>Geralt reached a hand down, taking the middle of the blade to hold up, Yennefer frowning as she pushed the sword up into his hands. "Far too heavy for someone like myself to wield properly. Witchers and your insistence on using physical weapons." <br/><br/>Geralt hummed, examining what he'd taken from the sorceress' hands. Truthfully, it was a bit lighter than the weight of the sword he remembered, but it was otherwise similar enough that he would have no trouble using it. He looked to the pile of weathered armour where they'd dropped it unceremoniously after Jaskier took Geralt up to his office. He put the sword onto the ground next to it before kneeling, beginning to put the wrappings and protective leather back on. <br/><br/>With Geralt getting ready, Yennefer looked back to the professor. "So- what would you do five hundred years ago?" <br/><br/>Jaskier chuckled shrugging. "Not sure, there are lots of things I could do. For one, this-" he gestured to the space around them. "I think I'd make a wonderful scribe, my handwriting is rather nice. I can read, I could've been a professor. But," He crossed his arms and offered a somewhat pained looking smile. "I've always liked music. Really, more than anything here. If it paid nearly as well as my current job does, I probably would've become a musician. Not a fancy one, no- I like to think I'd fit better in a bar. Doing shit karaoke nights, or hopping from club to club. Something fun like that." <br/><br/>Yennefer arched a brow. "So a bard?" <br/><br/>Jaskier paused, nodding in approval as he mulled over the suggestion. "I guess that fits better than anything else. We've got some old bardic poetry, a few notebooks up in the museum. All the instruments are rather uh, decayed. Wood doesn't do well in mud and sod." <br/><br/>Yennefer waved her hand, dismissing the last few words of the man. "You'll lose this outfit, by the way. I can't just create out of nothing." <br/><br/>Jaskier pouted. "I rather liked this shirt." <br/><br/>The sorceress smiled. "I do think you'll enjoy silk more." <br/><br/>Jaskier threw his arms open, offering a challenging smile as he stood in front of the woman. "Do your worst, then. Make me a bard." <br/><br/>Yennefer offered a small tease, wiggling her fingers in front of her before actually thrusting a palm towards Jaskier, a soft, milky-white cloud surrounding the professor before dispersing. Jaskier was left standing rather awkwardly as he straightened his back to account for the sudden looseness of his clothing. <br/><br/>The doublet he donned was nearly the same colour as his button-up had been, though laced through with golds and white thread, a cream chemise poking up from the collar. His pants were the same colour, though less flashy, and were high-waisted, loose to the ends where were tucked into boots that seemed to be the same style, though much cleaner, than Geralt's. <br/><br/>"And you're a bard," Yennefer said, sighing as she studied her handiwork. "You alright?" <br/><br/>"Did you happen to disregard my trousers by chance?" Jaskier muttered, hands pulling the pants up a bit higher, looking for the ties in the back to tighten them. "Because this is much less confined than my slacks." <br/><br/>"I'm not making you trousers, bard," she shot back. <br/><br/>"Already with the new petnames I see," Jaskier said, finally patting himself down as he adjusted the rest of his clothing to fit better on his frame. He turned to look at Geralt, who was in the final stages of putting his armour back on. The man's hands were reaching behind his shoulders, just a hair away from being able to grab the buckle between the shoulder pads. Jaskier took the liberty of stepping over to pull the leather together for the man, buckling it to secure it. "That better?" <br/><br/>"Thank you, Jaskier," Geralt said, rolling his shoulders. The Witcher crouched down to retrieve his sword from the ground, replacing it into the sheath on his back. The leather stretched around the new blade, a more angular and wide shape than his previous sword. "I'm ready." <br/><br/>"I guess I am too," Jaskier said, turning back to Yennefer. "Anything else we'd need to go five hundred years back?" <br/><br/>"Unless you plan on stealing everything you need, you'll need specie." <br/><br/>"Bollocks- well, shit." Jaskier put his hands on his hands, no longer able to shove them into the pockets of his pants. "We have <em>some</em> coins, but I'm beginning to wonder if we'll be able to get them back if we have to spend them in the past." <br/><br/>"What happens presently already occurred in the past. Whatever you do, you can't change what happens after you leave. Likely, you've already touched the coins collected in here, just- five hundred years ago that's just about to happen now," Yennefer explained. <br/><br/>Jaskier blinked at her, pulling his head back to frown at the ground, processing the idea. "I- I suppose you're right, with the whole time-dimension-past thingy. If it happened five hundred years ago, that means it already has- but we're about to cause it to happen now, just we're the ones doing it in the past." <br/><br/>"Don't confuse yourself," she teased. "Now, go grab the specie. Gold, silver, copper- whatever you've got. As I happen to remember, Geralt seemed to complain rather often he'd fall short on coin to stay at an inn. Perhaps if you buy yourself an instrument, you could make back what you spent and then some." <br/><br/>"Don't give me more things to confuse myself with," Jaskier shot back, though he once more- and hopefully for the last time- turned to go and find the crate containing old coins. It was just right of the jewellery one they'd opened earlier, though much lighter. The coins were all contained in small plastic bags, ten to a bag, and divided by type. Jaskier collected six bags of gold coins in each hand before setting them to the side, closing the lid of the box, and scooping his findings back up. "This will do I hope- over one hundred coins?" <br/><br/>"It was twelve for a night's stay at the inn," Geralt said. "Should be plenty." <br/><br/>That settled it. Jaskier handed Geralt the small plastic bags, all of which he deposited into a pouch tucked into his waistband. Suddenly the weight of the situation hit Jaskier, turning around back to face Yennefer. She was speaking, probably to them both, but the words floated around his head without actually processing. Back in time. Magic. Medieval-ness. <br/><br/>Jaskier found his shoulder being gripped by Geralt, a large portal with what looked to be trees in the background forming behind them. Rather unceremoniously, he was pulled through by the Witcher and stumbled a few feet away, spinning around to see the last flicker of the storage room disappear, leaving nothing in the air but the feeling of static. <br/><br/>He stood for a moment before his body groaned, and he felt a lurch in his stomach that sent him scrambling towards the closest object, bracing against a tree as he emptied his stomach out and into the bush beside him. <br/><br/>"You get used to it." <br/><br/>Jaskier chuckled painfully, spitting the sour taste from his mouth. "I'd rather not have to." </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It took about ten minutes until Jaskier felt well enough to move around with Geralt, who had seemingly not been affected by the half-millennia jump to the past. He had half the heart to ask Geralt how many times Yennefer had moved him around with portals, but he was more concerned about the fact they were, quite literally, in the middle of <em>nowhere</em>. <br/><br/>"So- do you recognise any of the trees? Any of the uh," Jaskier looked around, grimacing as he noticed a distinct lack of worn paths. The only slight hint of a path was between two trees a few yards from them, looking like an abandoned hunting trail. Worn enough to certainly be used, though for how long was up for debate. <br/><br/>The area around them, though vast and if Jaskier put too much thought into it, rather frightening, was beautiful. Low hanging leaves with thick, sturdy trees causing the ground to ripple with surface roots. The dead leaves below them were a wonderful amber, yellow, and crimson mixture- a few dead and dry enough to crumble or crack if Jaskier put a bit of force under his step. <br/><br/>The air was cold but not unbearable, and Jaskier was suddenly thankful that the doublet and rest of the silken outfit Yennefer had produced for him was rather insulative. Not immune to the shifts in the breeze, which pricked at his skin underneath the silk, but left the skin warm and smooth after the momentary burst of cold. <br/><br/>"No, but," Geralt looked towards the worn path Jaskier had first noticed. He hummed and beckoned Jaskier to follow, tilting his head in the general direction to walk. "There's likely a village nearby. I'm hoping that perhaps most names stayed somewhat the same. Or in the same language." <br/><br/>"We have to worry about language barriers?" The bard asked, frowning, stumbling over himself to jog over to stay at the Witcher's side. "Because if so, it's now time to admit that perhaps I used a small, only so very tiny, sixteen-page cheat sheet on my online finals and may have- <em>not entirely</em>- but still fibbed on a lot of the questions relating to Lat-" <br/><br/>"Quiet, Jaskier," Geralt grumbled. "We're not in your modern-day anymore. You have to be careful with what you blabber about. Don't mention modern things, and please try to adopt the skill of keeping most of your thoughts to yourself." Geralt wasn't trying to shut the bard down, not entirely. It was just unsafe to have someone who knew most everything of the past, present, and future to walk around without a filter. If they were lucky, Jaskier may only slip up once or twice. <br/><br/>Geralt tuned back into the present with the melodic hum of Jaskier behind him, certainly something much jauntier than what he'd heard of the music of his day. He wasn't about to count on that 'once or twice' slip-up he'd hoped on. <br/><br/>"Right, yes, staying quiet. You know, I'm rather good at that. In fact, when I was a child I was a selective mute-"<br/><br/>Geralt tuned the bard out, almost smiling at the irony of Jaskier's chosen false profession. Bards were known for their ability to spin fantastic stories, and Jaskier could talk endlessly on what seemed like nothing. Without a doubt, he'd blend seamlessly into society if he could just figure out how to divide what he should, and shouldn't, speak about. <br/><br/>The Witcher could sense the man following closely behind him, humming loud enough for Jaskier to hear if Geralt found him trailing too far behind. A few times, Geralt would turn around almost ready to scold Jaskier, only to find him staring up through the leaves to the sky, or crouched over, clicking his tongue at what as likely a rabbit or squirrel. What surprised Geralt most was the number of times Jaskier was able to actually coax the animal in question out of the bushes or den it was in for a very brief pat or to hand it an acorn or other small piece of food from off the ground. <br/><br/>"What are you trying to do, Jaskier?" He asked, crossing his arms in front of him as the bard stood up with a rather smug smile, his own arms hanging freely at his sides after being quickly wiped across the front of his pants. <br/><br/>"Just say hello to a few friendly little buggers. I don't often see animals in Oxenfurt- the students have all scared them from coming onto campus with busses and the awfully high amount of trash strewn about. The birds don't particularly like nibbling on cigarette butts." <br/><br/>Geralt offered a blank stare, and Jaskier found the small facade of smugness melting off into sheepishness. "Cigars?" <br/><br/>The Witcher hummed, again turning around to continue their walk. He could faintly hear a river, which usually meant they were getting close to where a village, or stronger path, would be. <br/><br/>After another half hour of walking, where Jaskier had begun to hum again, the cool scent of water was faint but still stronger than before. Geralt could hear where it was, and changed direction, cutting through a bush to twist around the trees in the direction of the river. Jaskier followed, grumbling the whole time that going through the bushes was '<em>going to put a hole in these clothes, Geralt.</em>' And '<em>I don't have any replacements to these, how can I walk in torn pants?</em>' <br/><br/>"Jaskier." <br/><br/>The bard quieted for a moment, his eyes flicking up to Geralt as the Witcher held up a hand. <br/><br/>The water scent was fresh, but so was a sour stench. Rotten flesh. He could hear soft, low gurgles. Drowners. <br/><br/>"Fuck." <br/><br/>"What is it Geralt?" Jaskier inched closer, a few inches away from Geralt's side, looking where the Witcher was. He couldn't hear or see anything that Geralt seemed to be mulling over, but the man's face had grown tense. That usually wasn't a good sign in anyone. "Are you hurt?" <br/><br/>Geralt shook his head before grabbing the handle of his sword to pull it from its sheath. Jaskier flinched away, cursing quietly as he stumbled over his feet. "Stay upright, damn it." <br/><br/>"Well thank you for the astute observation, Geralt. I hadn't noticed my lack of balance until you so kindly pointed it out." <br/><br/>The Witcher's lips twitched into a smile momentarily. The sharp tongue would do Jaskier well. As would the baseless bravery, but for now, he was still finding his footings. Both literally and not. <br/><br/>"Stay behind me. There's a body of water we need to get to if we want to find a town. But," he turned to the bard and pushed a finger into the middle of his chest. "You have to promise to stay at least three yards away from the bank. It's full of drowners, and if one gets a hold of you- you'll either be drowned within the minute, or they'll slice you up and you'd bleed out in less time." <br/><br/>Jaskier paled and gaped for a moment as Geralt turned around to continue walking towards the offending sound. "<em>Torn apart?!</em>" <br/><br/>"Hold on, hold up- Geralt, no, wait-" Jaskier briskly walked to catch up to the Witcher, sidestepping to try and in view as he looked on incredulously at the man. "Drowners? What even is that! Is it a person? Monster?" <br/><br/>"Both." <br/><br/>"Oh <em>wonderful,</em>" Jaskier said dramatically, dragging both hands down his face. "You know, that's an awful way to start this trip. Dead things that can still kill us." <br/><br/>"They can actually only kill you. It's decently hard to kill a Witcher if you're already half-dead." Geralt omit the part included that assumed said Witcher had potions on him, none of which Geralt was currently in possession of. Jaskier would probably have to wait for an instrument or settle for one made of shit. Potions may not even be available anymore for all Geralt knew, and if that was the case-<br/><br/>He huffed, forgetting the rest of the thought as the land before them thinned, and the rush of water vibrated the earth beneath them. The gurgling was still muffled. They likely weren't active at the moment, but it was better to dispatch and render the river safe to cross than try to javelin Jaskier across it. Or something along those lines.<br/><br/>"What did I tell you to do?" He asked, glancing back to the wayward bard. Jaskier looked to him and opened his mouth before flushing, closing it with a soft huff. <br/><br/>"I told you to stay behind and away from the river. Now, if you're to follow one direction, that would be it," Geralt said. <br/><br/>"Right, stay behind you, don't touch the water, and if I see a 'drowner', to scream- or run away." <br/><br/>"The latter is preferred." <br/><br/>With the ground rules settled, Geralt continued forwards and after another minute of breaking through the treeline, the river came into view. It wasn't anything special, though it contained a decent amount of fallen branches and boulders- perfect hiding spots for drowners. Looking at the width, Geralt suspected it could even host a nest. Double fuck. <br/><br/>He motioned for Jaskier to stop and waited a beat before he moved forwards. Thankfully, Jaskier seemed to understand that this is where he stopped moving until given permission to keep going. <br/><br/>Geralt made his way towards the bank of the river, trying to lighten his steps as he approached the shallow waters. <br/><br/>Frustratingly, the sky above them- which had been a soft grey when they first arrived, had darkened to a deep, almost black-covered sky of clouds. The air had chilled significantly, and the wind picked up near the river. All perfect conditions for drowners, the bastards. <br/><br/>Geralt looked around before he using the tip of his boot to kick a pebble into the water, watching it ripple for a moment. <br/><br/>Silence. <br/><br/>He held tensely, both hands gripping his sword as it hung in ready position, staring intently at the water. The small ripples that the pebble created disappeared. <br/><br/>Then, bubbles. <br/><br/>Another beat and a drowner's head broke the surface of the river, gnarled, slimy, and ugly as always. Geralt stayed out of the water as it crawled and extended its freakishly long arms to swipe at the Witcher. He swung his sword down, connecting with the elbow joint of the monster, the arm beneath his sword bending upwards with a sharp crack and the pungent scent of burnt flesh as the silver cut through the muscle as if it were butter. <br/><br/>The drowner wailed, head rearing back as it climbed further up the bank, staggering to stand in the waist-deep water only feet away from Geralt. It took a few shaky steps forward, lunging again with its good arm, nails raggedy and sharp as it swiped for Geralt's chest. He brought the blade up, meeting the drowner's hand as he parried it away before quickly swinging the sword around, again breaking through the skin. This time, he hadn't hit an easy part to cut through, so he twisted the sword, wrapping the drowner's arm around the blade before bringing the blade to face upwards, wrenching the drowner's arm up, up- <br/><br/><em>Pop. <br/><br/></em>And out. The socket of the bastard's shoulder tore, leaving the drowner with half an arm on his left, and none on his right. Now almost weaponless save for its teeth, Geralt had a better chance of dispatching it. <br/><br/>He had until its friends decided to come to join the first at the surface. Four more heads, in various stages of decay, popped up from the riverbed. Geralt swore and quickly brought his sword up to shoulder height, putting his weight into the blade as he stepped forward and into the water to reach the first drowner. The blade met the drowner's jaw and with the addition of the speed of the swing, cut through and to the other side.<br/><br/>The head tumbled forward and towards Geralt's feet as the rest of the body stuttered, swaying before falling limply to the side. He had little time to readjust his position before a pair of hands from two different drowners reached out to grasp and claw at him. <br/><br/>The sword met one, only slicing it off at the wrist with the other hand met his armour. The force of it created a gash in the leather, Geralt only feeling the slight burn of abrased skin below it. He growled and shouldered the arm away, swinging it up and across, decapitating the offending drowner. Its body fell into the other, causing it the stumble back. <br/><br/>Geralt took note of the other two, approaching him from opposing sides. His only open side was facing the riverbank, which if he ventured out any further, would then become his blindside. He stepped backwards slightly, encouraging the drowners to come out of the waist-deep water and into the more shallow area. <br/><br/>Only one did, staggering up to grab at Geralt's blade. It's hand seared as it touched the silver, but it groaned as it tugged it forward. Geralt pulled back but had to catch himself with a few steps forward. He thrust the sword forward as he moved, cutting through the drowner's chest. He pulled the sword to the left and watched as the drowner folded to one side. He took advantage of the moment and swung his sword over his head, swiftly forcing it through the drowner's neck, using his foot to shove the body and head back into the depths of the water. <br/><br/>The other two stalked forwards, and now Geralt was heaving slightly. He was out of practice and his shoulders were already stiff from the burn of stretched muscles caused by the lack of coordination he'd had with the sword thus far. <br/><br/>Just as the first one had, the first of the pair of last drowners reached forward, earning an amputated hand in the process. Geralt grunted, finding his other arm swiped at, this time the nails of the drowner cutting through the leather and into his bicep. He brought his hand up to grip the sword by the guard and used the butt-end to bash directly into the drowner's nose, collapsing the structure into its skull. <br/><br/>He popped the sword back into his palm, using his good arm to bring a final swing down onto the last drowner, cutting it through its shoulder and more than halfway across its chest. He brought his foot up to finish the job, forcing the upper half of the body to fall backwards, ripping what was left of the flesh off, sending a spray of guts up and into the air. <br/><br/>He flinched as he was covered in slime and entrails, panting for a moment longer before he was sure the threat was fully taken care of. No more gurgling sounded, and the water was mostly free of the scent of living monsters. Now it just smelled like shit and mold. <br/><br/>Behind him he heard the sound of retching, turning to see Jaskier's ass, his head somewhere in the bushes behind him. <br/><br/>Geralt moved stiffly, trudging back up the bank of the river, boots sinking into the soft mud with a wet <em>thurp </em>as he pulled them free with each step. He moved towards a patch of grass, crouching to drag his blade through the lush greenery, wiping it free of most of the slime and guts from the beasts. He heard the soft pad of footsteps behind him as well as the bubble of- <em>relief? </em>He turned to see Jaskier, a little pale in the face but otherwise looking at the Witcher with a mixture of concern and relief on his features. <br/><br/>"Did they hurt you at all?" He asked, glancing over Geralt's armour. They both moved to speak, Geralt saying '<em>No'</em> while Jaskier spoke over him with a quite, though louder in tone "<em>Yes.</em>" He fussed for a moment before his hands fell to Geralt's shoulder pad, lifting a piece of it up to reveal the top of the slice through the cuff protecting his bicep. <br/><br/>Geralt could feel the burn and pool of blood soaking into his shirt and armour, but he could also feel the knit of his skin already, the skin around the cut tight and burning. "I'll manage." <br/><br/>"Managing and healing are two different things, stupid man," Jaskier muttered, though he removed his hands with a gag, shaking them off at his sides before hesitantly wiping them off on the low of his pants. "That smells like shit." <br/><br/>"It's probably a mixture. Shit and decaying flesh cocktail," Geralt teased, watching with a pleasant thrum in his chest as Jaskier again mimed a gag. <br/><br/>They both stayed quiet for a moment before a rather strong breeze brushed past them. Geralt stilled while Jaskier cursed quietly, folding in on himself. He crossed his arms and both legs glued together as he stood as small as he could. <br/><br/>"Come on," Geralt said, offering a hand. He used his other arm to bring the sword up and over his shoulder, placing it back into the sheath. "We need to make camp. You can't travel during the night because you can't see, and I won't be able to keep a leash on you." <br/><br/>"Very funny Geralt, I'll have you know I followed your instructions perfectly. A-plus, I did not fail one requirement." Geralt rolled his eyes and accepted the bard's shaking hand. He hummed and tugged gently, leading the two of them into a small cluster of trees, a large trunk a brace between them and the direction of the wind.<br/><br/>Without a travel pack, the sleep would be rough. Jaskier would likely wake with the most painful muscle aches he'd suffered if Geralt could guess how comfortably he was used to sleeping. But what could make the autumn night more bearable would be a fire. And some fucking food. <br/><br/>"Think you could beckon a rabbit or two over?" He teased, allowing Jaskier to sit at the base of the tree, letting go of his hand as he sat. The lingering heat of his palm stayed the tingle of contact shooting up Geralt's arm and down his spine after it had ended physically. <br/><br/>"I think they'd prefer not to come close to a growly man covered in shit." <br/><br/>Geralt couldn't argue with that. He'd had to go find something to bring back then. The river likely didn't have fish in it- or if it did, they'd be just as rotten as the drowners. "Collect some firewood then. Keep it away from the tree." <br/><br/>"Sir yes sir, o-scary Witcher," Jaskier mumbled, letting his head fall back to hit the trunk, only having a second of rest before being ordered to go do more work. "You won't go far, will you?" He asked, looking to Geralt before he began to walk, halfway in a step away from the other. <br/><br/>"Not likely. Just need to find something to cook." <br/><br/>"Well alrighty then, I'll go find some nice looking twigs." <br/><br/>It only took fifteen minutes after they'd split up for Geralt to find a rabbit at the base of a tree. Quietly, he cast <em>Aard,</em> stunning the animal as it was pushed into the tree roughly. He dispatched it quickly, holding it by the hind legs before taking a few steps to search around the tree. Only a few feet away was another, though a bit smaller. The same few steps and Geralt had two very scrawny rabbits in one hand. It would have to do. <br/><br/>He retraced his steps, following the tangy scent of whatever modern perfume Jaskier had on- citrusy and sharp. Like old gin and lemongrass. The soft undertone of something sweeter like rose, or peony was also there, though he assumed it was something to do with the man's hair which looked unnaturally soft compared to his own. <br/><br/>He came back across the original tree they'd parted at, Jaskier hunched over a collection of sticks- some wet, others dry, a few large logs formed a triangle and he meticulously placed the twigs around them, then he set a handful of dry, crushed leaves around and top the smallest of the sticks. At least he knew how to build a fire. <br/><br/>"Good job." <br/><br/>Jaskier yelped, stumbling to stand up as he looked to Geralt. The Witcher heard the bard's heart go from a steady beat to jackrabbiting, though it quickly slowed down once they made eye contact.<br/><br/>"Christ, Geralt- you came out of nowhere. And uh, thank you," he said, looking down at the bundle of sticks he'd produced. "Boy scouts." He was met again with a deadpan stare, Geralt arching an eyebrow before Jaskier pursed his lips again and cursed. "Right, sorry, you don't know what that is."<br/><br/>Geralt shook his head and set the rabbits down, waving his hand for Jaskier to move. He quickly signed for <em>Ingi</em> and the small pile of twigs burst into flame, erupting high for a moment before the fire settled into the wood, burning low as it began to eat away at the fuel. <br/><br/>Jaskier retired with a sigh against the tree trunk, resting his head against the hard surface as Geralt began to skin and gut the rabbits, spearing them onto his sword before holding the blade over the fire. He could've easily cooked them without a fire, but Jaskier looked comfortable, like a cat, slowly inching closer to the source of heat while also moving closer to Geralt. <br/><br/>After five minutes, the fatty scent of cooked rabbit alerting Geralt the meat was safe to eat, Jaskier was almost shoulder to shoulder with him, the space between them vibrating as the man's leg bounced gently. <br/><br/>Pulling the sword back, Geralt used his hand to hold the tip of the blade, the glove growing uncomfortably hot as he slid the first rabbit off to hand to Jaskier. Ready with a stick in his hand, the other accepted and put the already skewered body onto the makeshift holding device, allowing it to cool in the air. Geralt pulled his own rabbit off the sword before casting the weapon to the side, allowing the metal to cool down on its own. Quietly, the two men ate. Jaskier seemed rather eager after the first few bites, his face contorted into a pleasant surprise, contentedness rolling off of him in waves of warmth as Geralt sat beside him. Something about seeing Jaskier smile quietly to himself and steal a glance to the Witcher when he though Geralt wouldn't notice was nice. Comforting almost. <br/><br/>Geralt felt his chest buzz momentarily, though he realised belatedly that it was his medallion. Come to think of it, it hadn't exactly <em>stopped</em> humming, even after they'd been portalled by Yennefer. His lips twitched in a frown, though plenty of explanations came to mind, one being the fact Jaskier was wearing magically made clothes, and that his sword had been reformed by Yennefer's magic. Likely, the remains of which were still clinging to both of them. <br/><br/>Not to mention the drowner guts still spraying his chest. Geralt brushed the thought to the side, throwing the empty bones of his meal into the fire. Jaskier followed a minute later, face comfortably pink as he soaked in the warmth of the fire. He fought back a soft yawn, though failed miserably and his mouth opened and his body stretched. <br/><br/>"Tired?" Geralt pushed, humming as Jaskier tried to deny it with a 'no' disrupted by another yawn. "I'll take that as a yes."<br/><br/>He hesitated. <br/><br/>"C'mere," he mumbled, patting the ground beside him. "You'll crick your back sleeping against the tree." Jaskier looked at him with a confused frown before Geralt hit his thigh and the click of recognition crossed the bard's face. <br/><br/>"Oh- <em>oh-</em> uh, thank you, Geralt," He mumbled, turning to face his back to Geralt before laying back, his head connecting with the Witcher's leg. That wasn't what Geralt had meant, he'd expected Jaskier to take the spot next to him, but he'd be an idiot to try and push the other away. The pleasant buzz of contact from earlier was multiplied exponentially as Jaskier shifted, his cheek digging into the leather of Geralt's armour. The warmth of the other's body seeped through the padding, through the cotton beneath it and into Geralt's bones. He fought back a small shudder, a new wave of content washing over him as Jaskier took a deep breath, sighing before he began to breathe easy against the other. <br/><br/>He'd already fallen asleep. Geralt stayed tense, though, after a few minutes of contact, he slowly relaxed. Hesitantly, he let his back press further into the trunk of the tree, his hand ghosting over Jaskier's shoulders before finding a spot to rest along the bard's back. <br/><br/>Taking a few deep breaths, focusing on the calming scent around them, the soft sound of the fire crackle, and the buzzing of the bugs of the night around them, Geralt fell into his meditative state, mind numbing to a puddle, the rest of his body losing its tenseness. <br/><br/>It was calm. Comfortable. <br/><br/>Warm. </p>
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<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I apologise for the hiatus! Classes &gt;:/ This chapter is a little muddy, but I will be getting more plot-filled chapters later! In the meantime, enjoy some bonding between our two idiots.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jaskier woke up with an arguably sore back, but he blinked open slowly, glancing over to see the dead embers of the fire from the night before. Over his shoulder, Geralt was sitting against the tree, one hand on his unobstructed leg, the other next to Jaskier's own head. He smiled before slowly trying to sit up as to not disturb the Witcher as he moved. <br/>
<br/>
It didn't seem to work, as Geralt's eyes opened slightly, squinting down as Jaskier pushed himself up and onto his knees, leaning away before Geralt cleared his throat, startling the bard. "Sorry- did I wake you? <br/>
<br/>
"Wasn't asleep." Geralt rolled his neck from one side to the other, opening an eye to see the other man pull a face at the loud popping noises coming from Geralt's neck and back. He hid a small smile before sighing, taking a deep breath as he stayed seated. "Were you planning on going somewhere?" <br/>
<br/>
"Well- I thought that maybe I should go relieve myself before we continue walking, yeah? And to just stretch out my legs because god, I've slept on hardwood before but dirt seems to top that as the most uncomfortable sleep of my life thus far." He moved to stand, stretching his back out by pushing both hands behind his hips and bending backwards, almost halfway down before the desired few <em>pops</em> sounds down his spine. Jaskier groaned and straightened back up, rolling his shoulders before giving a small shake. "I'll be a moment." <br/>
<br/>
Geralt didn't scold him for going out of sight, he could still hear Jaskier as the man mumbled to himself. The scratch of fabric and the tired grumblings blurred together as Geralt stared in front of him at the dead fire from the night before. It'd served its purpose, given that Jaskier hadn't frozen halfway to death or complained during the night. That also meant he was likely lying about the rest being 'one of the worst'. If he could move so freely so early in the morning, he likely wasn't in too much pain. <br/>
<br/>
Geralt chuckled and pushed himself up to stand. The bard was probably just sore from walking, and the effects of the portal. <br/>
<br/>
Speaking of which- his medallion <em>still</em> hadn't stopped humming, despite the fact he couldn't even feel magic around him. Of course for a while, after Yennefer had done her little show and fixed them both up, the chaos had clung to them both. Walking through the portal only amplified that. <br/>
<br/>
But they were twelve hours after the fact, Geralt sensed <em>nothing</em> himself, but the medallion seemed to disagree. The only logical path to follow was Jaskier himself but he was just... human. Geralt couldn't place one thing that was odd, or inhuman about him- other than the perfume. But even that was explainable, to Geralt at least. Jaskier was from hundreds of years in the future and seemed to enjoy the 'finer' things it offered. His clothes had looked well made, he presented in a professionally 'unkempt' way, and seemed to be aware he wasn't awful smelling. <br/>
<br/>
It just struck the Witcher as odd that he seemed to be the only conclusion as to why his medallion was still vibrating. <br/>
<br/>
Jaskier couldn't cast magic, if he could, likely it would've already shown itself given the fact Yennefer was making all sorts of unbalanced forms of chaos in front of him. And he wasn't a monster- Geralt would've been able to smell that. <br/>
<br/>
He thought back to the odd, questioning glance Yennefer had given the man when he'd gone to fetch a sword for Geralt. Curious but worried. He'd never mastered the art of reading through the mage's expressions, and she was smart enough to have usually never expressed concern so freely. <br/>
<br/>
Jaskier stumbling back into view shook him from his thoughts, the bard sending a smile his way also melted the chill right out of his chest and replaced it was a steady spread of warmth. <br/>
<br/>
He'd have to mull over the issue later. Now, they had to figure out which way to go. The river had moved ahead of where they'd come across it, and the land seemed to fall slightly, the trees further away from them appearing to fall down a soft incline. So they were somewhere at the very beginnings of the hills or mountains of somewhere. And given the fact everything was separated by either vast expanses of forest, or by mountains, it didn't help to narrow anything down one bit. <br/>
<br/>
But Yennefer had said it would land them somewhere close to where she'd felt Ciri. Cirilla was smart, and likely wasn't making a name for herself by appearing and disappearing every few years, so Geralt had to assume wherever they were, it likely wasn't mapped well, or on a map to begin with. <br/>
<br/>
That meant finding whatever the fuck they were would be even more difficult. <br/>
<br/>
"Brooding?" <br/>
<br/>
Geralt looked to Jaskier, who'd joined him at his side, looking a bit bored as he looked the Witcher up and down. "You're frowning. Look like a rather angry cat- dog. Wolf- yeah, that's it." Jaskier put up both hands, framing Geralt's face with their outlines. "Angry wolf." <br/>
<br/>
He rolled his eyes and knelt down, retrieving his sword from the ground. He replaced it into his sheath before kicking a small cloud of dirt over the fire. "We have to get moving. I don't know where we are so the sooner we find a town, the sooner we can get supplies and find Ciri." <br/>
<br/>
"Well you're certainly much more comfortable here than you were in Oxenfurt. Mister 'let's get a move on' rather than 'I think I'd prefer to stay down in the basement'." <br/>
<br/>
"You're acting as if I had a say in if I went into the basement." Geralt arched a brow and shook his head. "Either way- most towns or villages don't span more than a day or two's journey from one another. If you stumble in any direct long enough, you'll find one." He pointed towards the river. "But with that, if we follow to where water would pool- downstream- we'll find a village faster." <br/>
<br/>
Jaskier nodded, his lips pursed as he trailed after the Witcher once he'd begun to move. Geralt wasn't hard to follow, but there were so many distractions that Jaskier found himself falling behind every couple of minutes because he'd stared at a few trees or tried to reel a bird in closer with a few kissy noises. He didn't say anything, but he could also feel the heat of Geralt's disappointed glare at him whenever he cursed quietly and jogged back up beside the Witcher. <br/>
<br/>
"How close do you think we are? A few kilometres away?" He squinted as they walked, nothing ahead of them looking any different than before. <br/>
<br/>
"At least half a day if this trail is anything to go by. No horseshoe prints, footprints, or scent of humans so far. Probably an abandoned, or rarely used trail." Geralt offered, a hand coming to rest on the strap to his sword sheath. If it was abandoned, they may have some shit luck at finding supplies in the town nearby. If it was rarely used, then the town likely was out of their budget for supplies- if it didn't take advantage of a river so close by, they likely didn't have to worry about the lost revenue that came with allowing it to become infested with drowners. <br/>
<br/>
"Well, at least we know we won't be running into any trouble with people- monsters? Maybe," Jaskier supplied, crossing his arms as they walked. "But I'd much rather deal with things that you can do away with than people who can ask questions." He shot a glance to the Witcher. <br/>
<br/>
Geralt couldn't blame the bard for that one. Questions were always concerning, even to him. Whether it be innocent ones about Geralt, or more insidious ones that eventually end up with questions going on about if he was really fit to interact with humans. Jaskier would likely never have to deal with personally being asked those questions, but Geralt knew, even when he travelled with another person, certain villagers held beliefs that Witchers weren't even worthy of human companionship. Jaskier would likely have to deal with the blunt end of other questions- most pertaining to what exactly his role was to Geralt. <br/>
<br/>
He grimaced and continued walking, humming as an answer to the bard's statement. Keeping a brisk pace would do them well- fight off the setting chill of the fall weather and get them to a town faster. Without a horse, Geralt would be limited to how far he could travel. Of course, if he had Roach, he could trot her while he meditated in the saddle. Without a horse, Geralt couldn't exactly do that and now with a human in tow, he couldn't push for days on end without stopping to recuperate. Especially with a human like Jaskier who, despite his commendably brave behaviour, was not used to the wear of travel. <br/>
<br/>
"Jaskier." <br/>
<br/>
"Yes, Geralt?" The bard took a deep breath, his face pink as he hid the deeper breaths he was taking as they continued to walk. "Something wrong?" <br/>
<br/>
"No- but if we do happen to run into people, those who ask questions-" He paused, his brows furrowing. "It's not- Witchers don't have companions, usually. We have animals- horses, dogs, things that we can rely upon that aren't seen as people. You're a rather-" <strike><em>Handsome. </em></strike> "Younger-looking, excitable man. The connection people may make will definitely lead to sour questions and assumptions, especially about you. I can't say I can stop them, but if you need to get out of a situation where someone is harassing you- just call for me." <br/>
<br/>
Jaskier let his face fall slightly, a soft 'oh' tumbling out. He'd almost forgotten about what Geralt had spoken about earlier, when they first talked in Oxenfurt. Witchers, as he remembered, were never even described nicely. He'd hoped it as exaggeration, but Geralt's concerned voice about what he'd made as a teasing comment proved otherwise. "I'm not opposed to unsavoury comments, Geralt. I still got them at Oxenfurt. Tell me, is there anything about me that screams 'God-fearing, family-based, nice and young and <em>normal</em>' man? <em>Believe me,</em>" He said, his smile not reaching his eyes as he offered it to Geralt. "I've got plenty of experience with assumptions on who I am, and what I do. I doubt it'll be any different travelling with you; there are some things that just don't change about people even through centuries of change." <br/>
<br/>
Geralt's face tensed for a moment, his eyes studying Jaskier before peeling away. "Well. The offer for some extra protection still stands. I don't want you getting a dagger slipped between your ribs for saying the wrong thing." <br/>
<br/>
"Oh that's almost happened once already- granted, not a dagger but a pocketknife, I assume they're similar enough to you. Sometimes insecure partners don't appreciate their significant others being complimented by strangers." Jaskier pat his side. "I've got a little scar from it. Didn't actually get stabbed, just a small slash. Ruined a lovely maroon button up, the bastard did." <br/>
<br/>
Geralt snorted. "Only you could be more concerned about your clothing than your life." <br/>
<br/>
"I'll have you know that skin can repair itself to being just about normal again, whereas clothing can't." Jaskier elbowed the Witcher's arm, snarking at him with a crooked smile. "You, however, offered protection! So now I can worry both about my clothing and whatever poor bastard will piss themselves at the sight of you being angry."<br/>
<br/>
The flow of teasing jokes between them felt natural- more than, at some point. Geralt shook his head before continuing to focus ahead of them. He'd not known Jaskier for a day, and yet the man was unwinding his personality like a spool of thread. Geralt had never felt this comfortable speaking so candidly with someone, let alone a man from the future of whom knew more about Geralt than Geralt did of him. <br/>
<br/>
If the trail was long enough, Geralt may end up needing a backstory from Jaskier to pass the time. Given how freely the man spoke, he knew he likely wouldn't even have to ask for one to hear it. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>,,,ahaha,,, sorry for the six-almost-seven month hiatus.  i was really hoping to not get depressed over the pandemic but look where we are! anyways, I tried to make this chapter a bit longer to compensate but rest assured, this fic will be finished (eventually). Chapter updates will be longer as it's now coming to be exam season but I'm free of most difficult courses as of right now and incredibly bored so I reread what I've written and plotted out the rest. Happy reading :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The mud on the trail began to dry up ever so slightly the further they travelled, and about an hour's trek down the abandoned trail, Geralt paused, a hand falling onto the bard's shoulder. <br/><br/>"Something wrong Geralt?" <br/><br/>"Sh-" Geralt closed his eyes, a soft ringing in his ears turning into a murmur. "There's a village closeby. I can hear people. Faintly," he removed his hand from Jaskier's shoulder. "But this means that offer comes into play again, bard." Geralt adjusted his chestplate with a roll of his shoulders. "Stay close." <br/><br/>Jaskier looked unimpressed, glancing to Geralt with an arched brow before continuing to lag behind him, though not nearly as far as before. Their pace picked up slightly, leaving little time for Jaskier to gaze distantly at the flora around them. <br/><br/>"Do you suspect we'll run into trouble?" He asked, sidestepping to avoid a divet in the ground. "Truly, it's been a bit long, hasn't it? Don't you think maybe society has moved on? Accepted Witchers?" <br/><br/>"Doubtful," Geralt hummed, suddenly all too aware of his lack of supplies. His hands gripped around nothing but the strap of his sword sheath, and he was acutely aware that one of the off-putting feelings he'd been having was due to the lack of grease and sweat smell from a horse. "It's been long. Witchers were likely thought to have died out." <br/><br/>"Well, you're right there. A man, Brandvolt, wrote a poem I remember reading while studying you- terrible writer, I'll have you know. I believe he was trying to copy some form of sung poetry but his rhymes were all clunky. Anyways, he wrote that Witchers were men of myth. Monsters of legends, more terrible than the beasts they slew but sentient to dally with humans." <br/><br/>Jaskier frowned. "He spoke about you as if you were some sort of dog- smart enough to not be considered stupid, but inhuman enough to not be sentient, in a way- feral, almost. Looking back, he was a bit of a dick about it. You're not stupid." <br/><br/>Geralt snorted. "I appreciate the compliment." <br/><br/>A small spread of gooseflesh grew on Jaskier's neck as he rolled his eyes, chuckling. "'s just an observation, Geralt. If you were stupid, you wouldn't be able to tolerate me." <br/><br/>"That remains to be seen. I'm still deciding whether or not I like you." <br/><br/>Jaskier gasped, pouting at the Witcher. "You can take that back right now! What ever have I done to offend you at this point? All I've been is kind!" <br/><br/>Geralt offered a playful face of thought. "Would you like a list of the other things you've done? I'm happy to recite for you." <br/><br/>"No thank you, you're just going to insult me." <br/><br/>A scoff. "I would never." <br/><br/>A pinched sigh came from the bard before he crossed his arms. "You'd better be joking or else I'm going to feel rather hurt." <br/><br/>Geralt looked to Jaskier, his face dropping from playful to a bit more serious. "I'd hoped the satire would come through a bit more obviously- clearly, I'm enjoying your company. You make for a good companion if this last day and a half is anything to do by." He paused. "You've got a habit of speaking like you're about to start singing, though. I noticed that." <br/><br/>Jaskier went pink. "It's a habit so that people listen. Words sound much nicer when the intent is to already have a pleasant echo in the mind. I just have a natural talent for it, I guess." He focused on a bit of dead skin around his thumbnail. "Plus, singing is fun. I'd like to think I'm particularly good at it, I used to perform old ballads from my studies for credits in my class courses." <br/><br/>His smile grew a bit wider as he reminisced. "I even learnt how to play a modern lute out of spite- well, spite and because lutes are a much better conversation starter than a guitar ever could be." <br/><br/>The Witcher snorted, shaking his head as they continued to close the distance between them and the village, which the noises Geralt could hear were only becoming louder. He still couldn't make out any voices, just the murmurs of life. The putrid smell of manure travelled much further in the air than Geralt liked, but that meant the village had horses.<br/><br/>Horses meant it had more than just simple residents. <br/><br/>"I'm not sure now, but I believe we're coming upon a trading post- or at least a village with more than a few merchants." He said, looking over his shoulder to stare at the bard. "The closer we get, the more careful we'll have to be. Can you guess why?"<br/><br/>"Thieves?" The bard provided with a soft tone, his brows quirking upwards. "I know that bandits and most petty theft actually lulled down after the plague hit back in the 14th century- which is when you lived," he shoved his pointer finger into Geralt's bicep. <br/><br/>Geralt hummed. "I was immune to it, so it never affected me. But yes, thieves, beggars- the wrong kind, the sorts of which will gladly hold a knife to your throat for copper rather than sadly shaking their fist at you. But also the wasteponds."<br/><br/>Jaskier's face stood still for a moment before grimacing softly. "Oh right- I forgot about the whole 'we didn't get proper plumbing until we went over the North America' thing." Jaskier spoke and Geralt used all of his might to try and follow along with the professor's ramblings. Someday, he'd have to ask for an impromptu history lesson of what happened in the last eight hundred years so he could at least catch a few of the references to history that continued to fly over his head. <br/><br/>-----<br/><br/>After another half hour of trekking, Geralt finally found a path he could recognise footprints of both humans and animals on, and he dragged Jaskier onto the path and away from a bush he'd been busy with, calling for a feral cat that had disappeared into the leaves. <br/><br/>"Stick behind me. I'm not entirely sure who we'll meet first- a farmer, smither- whatnot, but they'll likely be a little less than pleased to see a Witcher like myself dragging along someone with an audibly full coinpurse, like yourself." <br/><br/>Jaskier nodded wisely, though a crooked smile and huff graced his lips. "Ah, the age-old class divide. That'll be combat in a couple hundred years you know- up North. Nobody else really liked that." Geralt stilled and offered a blank stare to Jaskier before leaning down slightly, coming eye-level to the bard. <br/><br/>"Jaskier?" <br/><br/>The bard smiled a bit nervously. "Yes, Witcher dear?"<br/><br/>A cold, leather-clad hand clapped his shoulder and squeezed. "Nobody will know what the fuck you're talking about if you keep dropping hints that things happened hundreds of years in the future. Keep your mouth shut, or mention something that happened within the last decade and a half. You barely look twenty-five, much less like you've been through rigorous schooling in history- seeing as you're supposed to be a bard. The most education you've got is literacy and maybe some language classes." <br/><br/>Jaskier nodded and held a thumbs up, clicking his tongue. "Duly noted and tucked away- pretend I'm stupider than I actually am." <br/><br/>Geralt snorted before removing his hand from Jaskier's shoulder, ignoring the lingering warmth in his glove as he shook his head. "Again- shouldn't be too hard for you to do." <br/><br/>Jaskier offered an offended mutter as the two crossed the threshold into the village, stepping onto a beaten gravel path lined with rotting wooden fences. <br/><br/>------<br/><br/>The bark of a farmer was the first thing Jaskier could properly hear, after mumbles of Geralt speaking about how he could hear people for the last ten minutes, he finally could reciporicate and complain about a very hoarse-sounding cry of a woman's voice. <br/><br/>"Eggs! Day-fresh eggs as of yesterday! How've you managed to have broken a broken coop and killed all but one hen? There's no foxes for miles and the last dog that tried killing a bird o' mine was clubbed!" <br/><br/>The woman, donning a dirty linen dress covered in feathered and brown splotches- likely blood, by what she was describing- was towering over a young boy, no older than fourteen. He seemed meek compared to her- perhaps a son, or a training young man. He held in his hands the remnants of what looked to be the wooden coop in question, covered again in feathers and blood. <br/><br/>Geralt narrowed his eyes and paused, Jaskier sticking close to him, but staying behind the hulking mass of his armour. <br/><br/>"I swear, it wasn't me! I'd gone to bed, I tell ya, and by morning when I go to check, there hadn't been a sound throughout the whole night, but the chickens were all gone and drained- the eggs smashed, and the coop was left in ruins! You're damn lucky I found the hen wandern' about outside without a scratch! It was a beast, I tell ya. Nothing leaves a chicken behind whole like that- not even foxes. If it had been a mutt, there'd be gizzards and bits all over the ground! You didn't see a damn one back there, lady!" <br/><br/>A shout sounded as the woman brought a fist down on the boy's shoulder, the boy below brushing her off with another shout. Geralt glanced down to Jaskier and cocked his head, tiredly looking over to the two fighting. "Come with me," He muttered. <br/><br/>"Beast? Geralt were these normal?" Jaskier whispered, quieting as Geralt offered a curt nod. The Witcher made his way over to the two and only paused when he caught the boy's attention, who gasped in turn and patted the woman's quickly before pointing a spindley finger towards the man and bard. <br/><br/>The woman turned and paled, hands going white as she gripped her dress and shook off the feathers. "A Witcher?"<br/><br/>"Yes, ma'am," Geralt rumbled, Jaskier surprised by the change of his voice from gravelly but soft to sharp, cold, and deep. He supposed Geralt had a facade to keep up, as did he. <br/><br/>"A wonder- we've been plagued for years and not one of you damned things have come to help until now. Useless until we offer to pay ya, huh?" <br/><br/>Geralt stayed silent, hands flexing at his sides. The woman continued, shooing the boy off as she crossed her arms and looked Geralt up and down. <br/><br/>"You saw the alderman for this?" She asked. <br/><br/>"No ma'am, we've just come off the Path." <br/><br/>The woman gave a sharp laugh, still glaring down the two men. "Pity. Thirty gold for anyone who can kill whatever's been killing our livestock. Just this last summer we've lost eight cows, ten sheep and three lambs, and now, just last night, we've lost nearly a dozen hens and two roosters. We won't have enough for winter if the killings keep up. Melitele, we hardly have enough for spring seeing as all the pregnant ones have gone and been slain." <br/><br/>Geralt waited a beat as she paused, only taking the opportunity to hum in acknowledgement. She quirked a brow and he looked to the side the boy had run off to. "Do you know what's killing your animals?" <br/><br/>She cackled. "Not a damn clue, Witcher. We've never had issues before but they started up suddenly five years ago and nobody spared a glance to use then because all we were losing was the fishermen, but now no one's brave enough to go fish, so the beast's taken to killing our animals and not just our boys and husbands."<br/><br/>Geralt nodded and sighed, rolling his shoulders. "I'll see what I can do. Where is the farm it attacked last night?" <br/><br/>The woman pointed, a pale hand gesturing to a hill just a few yards away. "Over that, and down near the lake. Just along the shoreline. The forest right next to it leads to a home- a path you can't miss, seeing as it's been burnt and not hacked away. The pasture is right next to the barn. The coop was opposite the pasture, but you'll see where it was."<br/><br/>Geralt glanced to Jaskier before straightened back up and nodding. "We'll see what I can do for you. I promise no other animals will die tonight." <br/><br/>The woman looked sceptical as she waved the two off. "Aye, all men said that before they got skewered." <br/><br/>Geralt tugged Jaskier along behind him towards the hill, tucking the last remark the woman made into his mind as they walked.<br/><br/>After they were out of earshot, Jaskier still clinging to his side, he grumbled aloud and shook his head as the farm came into view. "I didn't want to take a contract, but money is money and I have no idea how long we'll be here. That, plus I was usually compensated with at least a meal before when I hunted. A night's stay somewhere with a bed, and a meal- that's not something I'd give up after everything that's been going on."<br/><br/>Jaskier nodded and looked over towards the farm, sighing a bit. "Not to derail the conversation, but the farm- it's quite picturesque, is it not? Lovely lake, lovely forest- the pasture looks well watered- fertile-" <br/><br/>"If you wax more poetic about the damn grass, I'll start to assume you want to fuck it, Jaskier." <br/><br/>The bard rolled his eyes before shrugging. "I'm just simply appreciating nature, Geralt. Can't you allow a man to do that?" <br/><br/>Geralt pulled Jaskier by the sleeve cuff to prompt him down the hill. "Usually I could allow for such things, just not when the land is home to what sounds like a kikimora." <br/><br/>"A what?"<br/><br/>"Kikimora. Devilish thing- really likes entrails. Skewers people and either lets them bleed out, eat them whole, or just toys around and leaves them for dead. Seeing as this one has been said to just skewer people and eat animals when offered- it sounds like it's protecting a nest." Geralt smiled only slightly as Jaskier blanched. <br/><br/>He held up a finger as Jaskier opened his mouth. "Before you ask- yes, that means multiple." <br/><br/>The bard gaped for a moment before shutting his eyes and rubbing his palms into the sockets roughly. "Is alcohol hard to come by in villages like this?" <br/><br/>"It's cheaper than fresh water, bard," Geralt mused. <br/><br/>"Good, because after everything you've just said, I'm going to need more than one drink." </p>
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<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Geralt needs to go fight a Kikimora or two but he's about 800 years rusty on exactly how to do that. Oh, not to mention he's down to a single sword, and armour he hasn't replaced or repaired before he was so graciously turned into stone.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>"more action scenes" the crowd cries. "it's been a month, they'll never get to writing it" a pessimist says. "that's not true" a voice calls. oh my god it's asorenii, they're back from the dead. </p><p>hi I'm sorry midterms kicked my ass and motivation in the nuts but we're BACK baby!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Trailing after a Kikimora was something Jaskier had never read about, nor had he experienced, but after the first hour, he was sure he could confidently say he'd never want to do it again. <br/><br/>The first half of their hours-long journey had been gathering information from the surrounding woods. Geralt had tasked him with documenting about how far up scratches were on trees, how many were bent over or ripped from the soil by the root, and any bushes seemed to, in the Witcher's words, 'stink like a horde of cats exploded on them'. He'd been able to find a decent amount of bent and torn trees, scratches above his head by a wide margin- at least ten feet off the ground or more. He shuddered at the thought of exactly <em>what</em> the Kikimora that caused them looked like, and by Geralt's very lacklustre description, whatever image he'd manage to conjure up was quickly overtaken by something worse. An endless cycle of a formless, faceless beast covered in blood. <br/><br/>Jaskier looked up at the umpteenth tree with scratches on it and sighed, letting out a soft whine and squeezing his eyes shut. Oh, at this point, imagining something worse than what his anxiety feared would probably be impossible. He bemoaned the number of trees he found to Geralt, who only looked a bit sourer as Jaskier described their condition. <br/><br/>"It sounds like it might be a mated pair then," Geralt decided quietly, minutes after Jaskier had stopped speaking and has resigned himself to playing with the hem of his undershirt, untucked from his trousers as he fanned it to try and get some adequate circulation to the heat-stricken parts of his chest that threatened to sweat stain the nice fabric.<br/><br/>"Oh wonderful, a monster and his missus! If they're causing this much raucous together, I wonder how messy this place would look after the divorce." Geralt, for all his worth, did try to stifle the snort he gave, he truly did. But glancing up after he'd broken to see the bard looking warmly at him, a proud twinkle in those cornflower eyes, he mused that maybe he could spare a good, throaty chuckle every once in a while. A lowered guard while being objectively safe may not be the worst thing. He certainly didn't file away the look Jaskier had given him like he was happy he'd entertained the Witcher with his quip.<br/><br/>But all good things must come to an end, and Geralt had to steel himself as the sun began to dip into the trees as the day came to a close. The nighttime air began to thicken and chill, and Jaskier shifted where he sat against a fallen tree, hands still fidgeting with whatever he'd picked up from off the ground- a rock and stick, it looked like, being gently whittled at as time moved on. <br/><br/>"You'll likely hear the fight," Geralt said, rolling his shoulders as he weighed the sword in his hand. "And possibly me, but I need you to stay as far away from the noises as possible. You smell like a promising meal to a Kikimora, but to them,  I smell like the dregs of the compost basket. They'll be more inclined to try to find you if only one is busy trying to fight me. So I need you to promise you will avoid coming closer to any of the sounds, and if the sounds come closer to you, for you to get further away from them." <br/><br/>"I promise, like I did last night dear Witcher, to not go getting myself into unnecessary trouble," Jaskier said with a flourish, throwing the stick he'd whittled into a sharp little toothpick behind him. "But what do I do if I hear noises, they stop, and you don't come back?"<br/><br/>Geralt set his jaw after feeling it tick slightly, swallowing and looking out into the forest he'd have to go into. "I will. This isn't anything outside of the normal." <br/><br/>Neither of them audibly brought up the fact that Geralt's normal practise was now eight hundred years out of date. Geralt didn't bring up his lack of potions, and Jaskier decided to keep his mouth shut on what he thought a good idea could be, leaving it up to Geralt to come up with his decision. <br/><br/>"It may take me until morning," He finally said, swinging his sword once more before resetting his grip on it to the proper hold, "you may need to stay in the hut. Just as a precaution- it'll be harder for a stray beast to break into a stone home than it would be for them to snatch you up from beside a tree. There's likely also a hearth in there, so you shouldn't worry about being frozen." <br/><br/>Jaskier looked troubled, but said nothing on it, simply moving to stand and giving a small curse as he stretched out his back and brushed the dirt off his arse. "Well then, I suppose it's my time to retire for the night and think loud enough to drown out dying Kikimora noises, hm?" <br/><br/>"Don't think too loud or they might hear you." Jaskier couldn't quite tell if Geralt was kidding or not, with that tone of voice he held. As Jaskier was ushered into the hut, surprised by how homey it seemed and how, for being abandoned, it still had some leftover blankets in what looked to be the bedroom, he wondered if Geralt would be able to kill the one or more Kikimora as quickly as he seemed confident about.<br/><br/><br/>______<br/><br/>The forest was a pain in the ass in more ways than one, Geralt decided. First, it was dense but vague, with trees of similar standing, smell and markings nearly everywhere he looked. The only signs he wasn't going in circles was the fact that he hadn't taken a turn yet, only walking in a straight line. And second, it was quiet, too quiet. The eerie noises of birds had quieted after dusk had set, leaving only the faint sound of buzzing insects, and the occasional warble of an owl from distantly above him. <br/><br/>He was still following the trail he'd found previously, faint paths worn through the leaves on the ground and through the dirt, packed beneath him in some spots and softer, untouched soil elsewhere. The further he walked, the wetter the soil became, and the more pungent the smell of sod and stagnant water got. After another moment, he came across mud and the wet edge of a swamp-like area, still filled with gnarled trees and their roots. He silently stalked through the wooded area, coming up to an hour of travel and walking without seeing or hearing anything. That was broken by the quiet snap of something to his left, and then a thunderous cry and the lunge of a figure. <br/><br/>Geralt braced himself and sidestepped a taloned arm tearing into the air where he was once stood. The Kikimora looked small, younger than a fully grown one, but not juvenile. Geralt didn't have time to really think on if the poor bastard was possibly a grown runt, because it didn't really matter. He brought his sword up to deflect another swipe from the Kikimora, barely slicing the slimy skin of its arm. The Kikimora's mouth opened and unhinged wildly, snarling and gurgling on the open air in a chilling shriek, heaving its body into another fully-charging swing. This time, it hit its mark, and Geralt was thrown into a nearby tree with a muffled thud, landing in a heap at the foot of a tree. <br/><br/>Geralt's head swam and his ribs ached, likely bruised or cracked already. He sucked in a hard breath, walling himself against the tree as a makeshift form of defence. Out of practise and already injured, Geralt would have to play defense for now. <br/><br/>Another harsh shriek from the Kikimora tore him from any of his thoughts, and he brought his sword up horizontally, pushing against the stump-like arm threatening to skewer him. With a grunt and duck, the Kikimora's arm slid directly into the tree behind him, rendering him stuck for just a moment. That was more than enough time for Geralt to turn and drive his sword down and through the Kikimora's arm, twisting it sharply and avoiding the spray of blood provided as he took the limb off from the shoulder. The beast wailed in agony, stumbling forwards before trying to swing around, rearing up on it's back two legs to try and crush Geralt with its last remaining arm. <br/><br/>Geralt pushed forward, holding his sword upright and the Kikimora bore down, effectively impaling itself in an attempt to kill the Witcher. It writhed above him, its heavy body threatening to suffocate Geralt as he strained under it, removing his sword and using his shoulders to try and shrug the corpse off of him. He was completely soaked in blood, wet and rancid, and his chest stung with the sharp pain of most certainly broken ribs. <br/><br/>He panted and barely had time to catch his breath before the second set of footstep he'd been expecting joined into the fray, a much larger, full-grown Kikimora emerging from the swamp and bounding towards him with an open maw. He used the other corpse as an obstacle and block, ducking to avoid the Kikimora's mouth and then dashing towards the muddy swamp waterline as the Kikimora's bodyweight forced it a few more steps forward before being able to stop and turn around. <br/><br/>Geralt wanted to try and use the mud against the Kikimora, staying light on his feet as he braced himself for the now charging monster yet again. His sword was held forwards, again, ready to thrust to skewer or maim. He braced himself for impact as the Kikimora brought a taloned arm up and into Geralt. He choked on air as it was punched out of him, as he and the Kikimora both fell into the swamp's waters. <br/><br/>Immediately, his senses were dulled by the water and his already aching chest felt aflame from the added injuries. The Kikimora above him had him pinned by the shoulder, not breaking skin but damn near close to crushing the joint with the weight it was putting on it. He let out a string of bubbles, watching blurrily as they travelled up to the surface that was just barely out of reach. He glanced down to where the arm was and through the murky water, moved his arm to swing up blindly towards where he assumed the joint of the arm would be, or at least, where he'd hoped it was. <br/><br/>A muffled warble and then white-hot paint on his forearm that held the sword proved otherwise, and he nearly gasped the water as the Kikimora sank its teeth into his arm. He tore himself away, thankful that the bite had left the Kikimora to remove most of its weight from his shoulder. He broke the surface of the water and came face to face with the Kikimora's mouth. He brought his bloodied arm up, thrust it forward towards the Kikimora and cast Aard. With the momentary stun it offered, he struggled against the water, slapping down on the mud beneath the water's surface until he found his sword handle, and was able to steady himself before the daze in the Kikimora's eyes faded and it was able to lock back in on where he was. <br/><br/>He found that his sword had, in fact, made contact, and had cut through one of the beady eyes, covering one half of the Kikimora's face in dark, red nearly black blood. But that had certainly made it angry enough to warrant another charge, its head swinging up as its arm cut through the air, chest raised an open. Geralt debated moving forward and risking another injury for not more than a second before raising his shoulders to protect his head as he thrust his sword out. It momentarily caught on the Kikimora's ribs, the scratch of metal on bone sending an unpleasant vibration through the sword but with a sharp twist and another, more urgent shove, the sword slid further into the chest cavity and sunk to the hilt. Geralt grunted as he avoided the mouth of the Kikimora once more, in its last-ditch effort to try and maim the Witcher. It gurgled for a moment and Geralt froze as he was doused in vomited up blood and more rotten, rancid smelling bile and bits. <br/><br/></p><p>He stood still, pulling his sword out of the Kikimora's flesh quietly, staring at the two corpses left behind by the all-too-long fight. He grimaced as he moved out of the water, his injuries catching up to him as he stumbled back towards the muddy bank, avoiding roots and the extra slick mud. <br/><br/>He carefully cradled his side, the right side, as he walked, the pain from both his arm and ribs mixing together, creating an uncomfortable burn in his body as it simultaneously worked to repair itself even he walked and irritated the wounds further. Lamely, he realised that taking this contract in particular before actually getting any supplies was stupid, but thirty gold was more than enough for food, shelter, supplies, and then some- possibly enough for a shitty little instrument for Jaskier to pluck at to earn some side coin. <br/><br/>Geralt mused possibly saving coin to buy Jaskier proper supplies, but he'd assumed that Jaskier would mooch off of him. It took him a moment to realise that in this situation, <em>Jaskier</em> was likely more knowledgable than he was in a lot of things- namely, what would be happening. He'd have to ask for a summary or at least, ask for exacts in the coming years or months- if he was lucky enough for Jaskier to remember exacts- for what was happening on the continent, and where they should avoid. <br/><br/>The trek back to the stone hut was painful, but by the time Geralt could see the hut- and the glow from one of the windows, proving Jaskier had made good use of the hearth- he cared more about checking up on the professor-slash-bard than he did about his slowly healing injuries. He sighed as he heard scrabbling from inside the hut, only to watch the wooden door facing him be thrown open by a very dishevelled Jaskier. <br/><br/>The pause between the two of them was deathly silent before Geralt watched Jaskier's face pale, clam up, and felt a spike in a wave of sick emanating off the poor man. It passed quickly as Jaskier shook himself off and open the door further, waving Geralt inside. He sighed and staggered forward a bit more, time blinking past him as he was suddenly in the doorway, a hand heavy on his good shoulder, the other resting on his back. <br/><br/>"What the hell kind of beast is a kikimora?" <br/><br/>Geralt huffed. "Bitch of a one. We'll grab the heads in a bit, I just need to heal for a few hours. Broke some ribs, got bit and stepped on."<br/><br/>Jaskier let a smile pull at his lips, rolling his eyes. "If I didn't know any better, your description sounds more like a bedding gone awry rather than a vicious fight between you and a man-eating monster."<br/><br/>Geralt chuckled, shaking his head as he moved to sit where Jaskier was ushering him towards, a creaky looking chair covered in some kind of matted fur. It didn't matter, the woman they'd spoken with had said this place was abandoned, and Geralt wasn't about to refuse a place to rest for a moment longer. <br/><br/>Despite looking rather decrepit, the inside of the hut was warm. The fire Jaskier had started in the hearth using some rotten looking logs from the side rack, as Geralt could smell the tang of metal in the air. He assumed Jaskier had found something to spark the wood with, or had made use of scraps he found. <br/><br/>"So," the professor started, looking Geralt up and down before placing his hands on his hips, "you rest up, we grab the monster heads, and then find something to drink, yeah?" <br/><br/>Geralt nodded with a soft smile, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back and hit the back of the chair with a soft sound. "Yeah, sounds good, Jaskier." </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>please be aware that i am pulling any and all academic knowledge out of my ass for this indulgent AU. i don't even know if universities have storage units underground for old shit. but now this one does. </p><p>kudos and comments are always appreciated- I want to know what you guys like/want to see happen.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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